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MOTHER BROWN EARTH’S 

CHILDREN 





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MOTHER BROWN EARTH’S 
CHILDREN 

' -v f tty Edna (jroffDeihl />r 


d7Hustrationsby c Vera6tom 



d Just‘Right ‘Book' 

dlbertWhitman Company 
Chicago, US Cl. 


* e i^.a-Ta 













\Va 



Copyright 1927 


ALBERT WHITMAN & COMPANY 

CHICAGO, U. S. A. 


OTHER TITLES 
UNIFORM WITH THIS BOOK 


Robin Redbreast's Home 
By Clara J. Denton 

Little Folks From Etiquette Town 
By Laura Rountree Smith 

Denton's Fanciful Tales 
By Clara J. Denton 



©Cl A1 068055 

FEB1778 


A Just Right Book 
Printed in the United States 




PREFACE 

Children are interested in the common-place 
things of their life. 

The flowers they pluck from their gardens, 
the fruit and vegetables they prepare and eat 
each day, are all wonderful things to them. 

For this reason I have used these everyday 
subjects, and have woven about each of them a 
story—one that will amuse and instruct them as 
well. By giving them bits of interesting facts 
about those things which they see every day, and 
at the same time allowing their imaginative 
powers to have full sway, the common things 
take on a fairy semblance, and make life more 
beautiful. 


—Edna Groff Deihl. 


CONTENTS 
BOOK ONE 

THE VEGETABLE FAMILY 

Page 

Tomato — How the Love Apple Became a Tomato ..11 

Onion — How the Onion Got Its Smell . 23 

Cauliflower — How Hans Christian Cauliflower 
Crossed the Sea . 31 

Pumpkin — How Grandma Pumpkin Kept House . .40 

Pepper —Reddy Pepper, Coward .. . .50 

Garden Vegetables —The Opening of Garden Bed 
Park . 59 

THE FRUIT FAMILY 

Citrus Fruits — Chinatown of Fruit City . 68 

Plums and Prunes — Honey Plum's Lesson . 76 

Peaches —Naughty Goldie Peach . 85 

Pears —Billy Bartlett's Choice . 91 

Apples —The Proud Apple . 99 

Bananas —How the Banana Family Went Abroad. 105 











CONTENTS 

BOOK TWO 

THE FLOWER BABIES 

Page 

The Brave Violet. 9 

The Arbutus — The Flowers' Scare . 18 

The Flowers’ Baby Show — Garden Flowers . 27 

Easter Flowers — Easter Lily's Sermon . 35 

Johnny Jump-up and Giant Sun-Flower.44 

Roses — The Pink Roses of Bush House . 51 

THE BERRY BABIES 

Mountain Berries — The Berries Race . 61 

Currant and Gooseberry — Reddy Currant and Her 
Country Cousin, Gooseberry . 69 

Raspberries — Dr. Snowy Tree Cricket and the Sick 
Raspberries . 77 

Blackberries —The Three Obliging Little Berries. .86 

Mulberries —The Tale of the Mulberry Tree . 94 

Elderberry — The Old Woman Who Lived on a 
Stem . 104 













LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



BOOK ONE 


One Day a Little Girl Came.Frontispiece 

Samantha Picked the Love Apple.Page 10 

Send for the Doctor! I Ate a Love Apple. “ 19 

The Fairy Firefly Was Out With Her Tiny Followers. “ 23 

All Gathered Around the Funny Little Onion Bed. “ 29 

In a Big Boat They Sailed Away. “ 31 

Hans Cauliflower Told Stories to the Garden Folk. “ 39 

You Must Go Alone. “ 40 

Squatty Scratched Her Face. “ 43 

No, Indeed! Laughed Grandmother. “ 47 

He’s Too Dried Up and Old. “ 50 

Up, Up He Went. “ 53 

Packed Up for the Sea-Shore. “ 59 

Hundreds of Us Waiting to Be Cooked with Bacon. “ 61 

“Please Come Along, Father”. “ 65 

The Cauliflower Merry-Go-Round. “ 66 

They Were Known All Over the World. “ 68 

At the Very Edge of the Village. “ 69 

Maybe I Will Be a Refreshing Drink for Some Invalid. “ 76 

What on Earth Are You. “ gj 

Throw It to the Chickens. “ 85 

























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



BOOK TWO 


“Oh Look,” Cried the Little Girls.Frontispiece 

They Heard the Tale Biggey Mulberry Told.Page 8 

I Want to Hear My Friend. “ 11 

Girls Wearing Pink and White Sun Bonnets.•_ “ 13 

At the Root Telephone. “ 23 

Little Arbutus Wandered Away. “ 25 

Bugville Turned Out and Stood Along the Walk. “ 27 

My Dear Easter Is Coming. “ 37 

Easter Is Not to Show Off Our Clothes. “ 43 

He Will Not Look North. “ 45 

It Had Beautiful Green Shutters and a Quaint Thorn Fire Escape “ 53 

I Am Going to Take You to My Grandmother. “ 58 

Pretty Red Flowers.. “ 60 

A Red Juicy Strawberry. “ 67 

My Dear Cousin Gooseberry. “ 69 

She Knew Lots of Good Games to Play. “ 75 

Good Afternoon Mrs. Raspberry. “ 77 

They Found This Sign. “ 83 

Here Come Three Little Girls. “ 87 

They Dried Up and Blew Away. “ 93 

Then the Little Elderberry Children Coaxed for a Story. “ 95 

Darning One Thousand Pairs of Stockings. “ 104 


























































































































< - 

I ' 







Samantha Picked the Love Apple. 
























Aunt Estes Stories 

of the 

Vegetable ' and * Fruit * Children 


HOW THE LOVE APPLE 
BECAME A TOMATO 


5’NCE upon a time, long long 
ago, before there were any 
automobiles, street - cars, 
express trains, electric 
lights, gas, flying machines, telephones 


O 


11 







12 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


or moving picture shows, Grand¬ 
mother lived in a quaint little house 
in the country. There was a quaint 
little flower bed in the front yard, and 
a quaint little vegetable bed in the 
back yard; off to the side of the house 
stood a large barn with a barn-yard 
full of horses, cows, chickens and 
ducks. It was a wonderful place, and 
Grandmother loved it as much as you 
boys and girls love your busy city. 

Best of all Grandmother loved her 
little gardens—the quaint flower gar¬ 
den in the front, and the dear vegetable 
garden in the rear. Of course she was 
not a grandmother then, but a dear 
little girl with long curls down her 
back. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


13 


In Grandmother’s flower bed were 
beautiful creatures — mignonettes, 
pinks, asters, marigolds, and many 
others. Now right in the middle of 
the flower bed sat some funny little 
red, fat flowers, which she called Love 
Apples. They did not look like the 
other flowers, for although they had 
beautiful coloring, they were not grace¬ 
ful, and had no dainty faces. And oh, 
they were so sad, for, while Grand¬ 
mother picked big bouquets of the 
other flowers, she never once picked a 
Love Apple. They just hung there in 
the sunlight until they withered and 
died. For what do you think Grand¬ 
mother said whenever any one went 
near them? She said, “Don’t touch 
those, they are poison .” 




14 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Back of the house in the vegetable 
garden lived the onions, radishes, let¬ 
tuce, potatoes and the rest of the veg¬ 
etable family. Here, every morning 
through the long hot summer, came 
grandmother, in her little pink pina¬ 
fore to pick the vegetables which her 
mother would cook for her dinner. 
My, but everyone was happy and full 
of song around that home—Grand¬ 
mother, all her family, the barn yard 
folk, and even the vegetables and flow¬ 
ers. Only the Love Apples were un¬ 
happy. 

One day Marigold, as she sat look¬ 
ing at the sun, heard one of them cry¬ 
ing. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


15 


“Why do you cry, little Love 
Apple?” she asked. “I would not get 
such a red, swollen face, if I were you.” 

“Nobody loves me!” sobbed the lit¬ 
tle Love Apple. “How would you like 
to be so badly treated by Samantha 
(which I forgot to tell you, my dears, 
was Grandmother’s name)? “She 
picks you , and hides her face in your 
lovely petals. She goes to the back 
garden and picks those little vegetable 
fellows and eats them with her pretty 
mouth. But here I hang! ‘That 
Love Apple is pretty,’ she says. ‘But 
no one must go near it. It is poison!’ 
Oh my! That word poison makes me 
quiver! I feel as if I were a snake. Now 
tell me, Marigold, did you ever hear 
of me hurting any person?” 




16 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“No, indeed, I did not, my dear,” 
answered Marigold. “But to tell you 
the truth, I feel that you are a bit out 
of place among us flowers. You look 
more as if you belonged out in the 
vegetable bed. You seem to be more 
of a vegetable than a flower. Why 
don’t you try to live out there?” 

“That’s a splendid idea!” said Love 
Apple. “And do you know, since you 
mention it, I remember my grand¬ 
mother telling us children that long, 
long ago, when we lived in tropical 
lands, beneath the burning sun, we 
were eaten! But how can I prove to 
the earth folk that I am a good vege¬ 
table instead of a poison flower?” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


17 


“Why don’t you look so tempting 
some day that Samantha will pick you 
and get a taste of you—then the rest 
will be easy! You know how little 
girls are! They all like good things, 
and some of them don’t stop to think 
whether they will hurt them or not.” 

“Good!” said Little Love Apple, “I 
will tempt Samantha. I would not 
hurt her for the world, but I know 
I’m not poison, and I must show her 
in some way that I am not.” 

So, one morning when Samantha 
went to her little flower garden to pick 
a bunch of pretty flowers for her moth¬ 
er, there hung that Love Apple. It 
was big and red and looked so per- 




18 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


fectly lovely that Samantha thought— 
“Oh, it wouldn’t hurt me just to pick 
it and see whether it smells good!” 

Samantha picked the big, juicy Love 
Apple, and as she tried to smell it, it 
burst its red, thin skin, and Samantha 
got a taste of it! M-m! It was good! 
Before she thought of what she was 
doing she had taken a bite, then two 
bites—then in a little while she had 
eaten the whole Love Apple! 

My! Samantha was a scared little 
girl! She ran into the house crying, 
“Send for the doctor! Send for the 
doctor! I’m going to die! I ate a 
Love Apple!” 

When her father heard this, he wildly 
ran and harnessed up the big mare to 





Send for the Doctor , l Ate a Love Apple 

19 


/ 


































































































































20 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


the buggy, and rode off as fast as he 
could to get the doctor to come and 
bleed Samantha, so that she would 
not die. 

But what do you suppose? When 
the father reached the doctor’s house 
he had gone away for the day, and 
there was not another doctor for miles 
and miles. 

Then everyone thought surely Sa¬ 
mantha would die. But she did not. 
She went right on living and was as 
fat and as well as she had ever been. 

So the people were taught at last 
that the little Love Apple was not a 
poisonous flower at all, but a good 
vegetable.- When they had proved 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


21 


without a doubt that such was the 
truth, they took the little fellows, roots 
and all, from their home in the quaint 
flower bed in Grandmother’s front 
yard, and made them a home in the 
big vegetable garden in Grandmoth¬ 
er’s back yard, and called them TO¬ 
MATOES. 

Now you must know that this is 
true. The tomato was once a Love 
Apple. From that day, long ago, when 
the lonesome little apple tempted 
Grandmother in the front yard of her 
home, the Tomato has lived with the 
Vegetables in the back garden. 

My, but it has been happy! For 
has it not been sliced and covered with 
vinegar, pepper, salt and sugar? Has 




22 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


it not been to parties with its yellow 
mayonnaise cloak hanging gracefully 
over its shoulders? Has it not been 
fried in butter and gone to beautiful 
dinners with a cream dressing all gar¬ 
nished with parsley? Has it not lived 
in glass houses all winter long? 

Which would you rather be, dear 
ones? Grandmother, in her quaint 
little country home, with her Love Ap¬ 
ple in the front yard, or just a little 
twentieth century girl with a bed of 
tomatoes in her own back yard? 








The Fairy Firefly Was Out with Her Tiny Followers 


THE FUNNY LITTLE ONION 



'T was midnight in Garden- 
be-land. For you know 
midnight comes to that 
Js land as well as it does to all 
of Mother Earth’s possessions. The 
moon was bright, so bright, that when 
little Bunny Stubby-Tail, who ran 
through the place hunting something 
good for his dinner next day, saw his 


23 












24 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


shadow, he was afraid, which of course 
was very silly of Bunny Stubby-Tail. 
However, this is not a true story about 
a little rabbit, but just a dear fairy 
tale about a funny, discontented little 
onion. 

The Moon was bright, and Fairy 
Firefly was out with all her host of 
tiny followers, each carrying a little 
lantern so that they might see the 
Vegetable Children, sleeping in their 
earth beds (for you must know, my 
dear ones, that the Fireflies are the 
Vegetable’s Fairies). How dear the lit¬ 
tle Vegetable children looked! There 
was Red Tomato, lying flat on his back 
in the moonlight, without one bit of 
cover! There was Irish Potato and 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


25 


her little sisters and brothers tucked 
so tight away beneath the brown earth 
covers that no one could see them; 
there were the Pea Babies in their 
quaint, green cradles, peeping through 
the cracks in the green wall at the 
moon; there were the Bean Children 
even doing stunts in their sleep—for 
were they not dangling from the long 
stem ropes? 

“They all look perfectly happy,” 
said Fairy Firefly. “Let us be going.” 

But before they could spread their 
wings to fly they heard a little voice: 
“Oh, pretty fairies, stay but a mo¬ 
ment. I have heard that if one wakes 
as you pass, and asks three times just 
like this, ‘Grant my wish! grant my 




26 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


wish! grant my wish!” it shall be so! 
Now I have a wish I would like to 
have granted. Please, Fairy Firefly, 
hearken to me.” 

“But speak thy wish, and it shall 
be granted,” answered Fairy Firefly, 
and all her million followers bowed 
their heads at her will. 

“I am sad,” sighed the little voice. 
“I am nothing but a tiny onion, living 
all alone. I can never even show my 
white dress outside the ground house 
until I am pulled; I have no brothers 
and sisters to play with on the same 
root porch, like the Potato Children; I 
have no pretty cradle to be rocked in 
like the Pea Children, who always 
look so happy and roly-poly; I have 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


27 


no green dresses which turn yellow in 
the autumn like the Bean Children, 
nor have I stem swings to play upon; 
I have no out-door sleeping porch nor 
red dresses like the Tomato Children. 
I am but an ordinary creature. What 
I want is just something to make me 
different—so that the world will no¬ 
tice me and talk about me. Some¬ 
thing to make me like a rose or like 
one of the pretty flowers. Grant my 
wish! Grant my wish! Grant my 
wish!’ ’ 

Then said Fairy Firefly. “It shall 
be as she asks, dear followers. Wave 
your lanterns over her head three times 
and her wish shall come true. She 
shall have something different from 




28 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


all other vegetables; something like 
the Rose—something which will make 
people notice her and talk of her, for I 
am going to give her a Lasting Smell! 
There shall be an onion smell when 
she is picked; there shall be an onion 
smell when she is handled; there shall 
be an onion smell when she is eaten 
and long, long afterward. It is the 
only smell I have left in my bag, and I 
don’t know whether she will like it or 
not, but her wish must be granted in 
some way.” 

So Fairy Firefly and her followers 
all gathered around the funny little On¬ 
ion bed and chanted: 

“From thence forever you shall smell, 

In sunny fields or shady dell; 

If the smell we give you be not fair, 

All we can say, it is most rare.” 
























30 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


And so the funny little Onion came 
to have the smell which makes her 
different from all other vegetables. I 
do not think Fairy Firefly guessed 
very well, if she thought she was giving 
her perfumery like the rose, do you? 

It does not always pay to lie awake 
listening for the Fairies. Some time 
we might wish for something we really 
would not want, and that we could 
never lose. 







In a Big Boat They Sailed Away 


HOW HANS CHRISTIAN CAULI¬ 
FLOWER CAME ACROSS 
THE SEA 


^NCEupon a time in a quaint 
little country across the sea 
lived Hans Christian Cauli¬ 
flower. Mother Cauliflower 
had named him that after that great 
man — Hans Christian Andersen — 



31 











32 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


who wrote those wonderful fairy tales 
you have all read. If you love him, 
the little Danes love him more, and 
even the vegetables and flowers bow 
low when his name is mentioned, for 
he was one of their very own country¬ 
men. That is why Mrs. Cauliflower 
was very proud to name her baby that. 
He was not very pretty when he was 
little—just a round, roly-poly seed, 
and he had no pretty dress such as his 
mother wore, which looked exactly like 
a big garden bouquet. 

From the time little Hans was born 
he wanted to see and do things. He 
was never satisfied in his little country 
of Denmark. One day he was put in a 
box with a great many other seed chil- 





AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


33 


dren, and sent to Copenhagen, the 
capitol of Denmark. There he saw 
the sea, with all the wonderful boats 
going and coming. My, but he wanted 
to jump on one and see where he would 
get to. Day after day he pleaded in a 
thin, piping voice, 

“Please put me on a boat!” 

“If we go on a boat we can never 
come back to our beloved land,” said 
another little seed, who loved his 
mother and the little garden where he 
was born, and the Danish girl who 
watered and tended to the vegetables. 
“We can never again see the fisheries, 
and our own people making their bread 
and carving their own furniture. We 
must stay away if we go. But I am 




34 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


afraid that is what is going to happen. 
I heard some men talking of putting 
us on a boat and sending us to Amer¬ 
ica.” 

That little seed was right. One day 
they were thrown on a big boat and 
away they sailed. My, but little Hans 
Christian Cauliflower got seasick. He 
wished he might fall into the great sea 
—but that was impossible. At any 
rate he was getting his wish, and see¬ 
ing the world. 

One day the big boat reached land. 
There were sounds of voices and men 
rushing to and fro. Hans wished he 
were not such a tiny seed, so that he 
might see the new country. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


35 


Before long the box in which he was 
living was unpacked. The little seeds 
were so happy to feel the good fresh air. 
They yawned and stretched them¬ 
selves. It was not long before they 
were planted in good rich soil. “This 
looks like home,” thought Hans. 
* ‘ Nothing so different here. J ust brown 
earth! But it does feel good for my 
tired self. I can grow here!” 

So down underneath the brown earth 
covers Hans Christian Cauliflower 
grew. He grew and grew until his 
nose came out of the ground. Then 
he saw trees and grass and vegeta¬ 
bles growing just as they did in his 
own country, but the little girl and 
boy who came to give him a drink each 




36 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


evening, were different. They did not 
dress like his countrymen. They did 
not talk like them. The houses they 
lived in did not look the same. There 
were no fisheries and Hans, although 
he loved the strange sights, began to 
feel homesick. 

“If I could only hear something 
which would make me feel at home,” 
he said. 

Then one day a little girl came and 
sat under a big tree which grew on the 
edge of the garden where Hans was 
living. She was very, very pretty. She 
wore a big red hair ribbon, and a dear, 
little, low-necked red dress, with short 
white stockings. Under her arm she 
carried a book. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


37 


“I shall read until they call me to 
dinner,” she said. “Mother just gave 
me this lovely book of Andersen’s Fairy 
Tales. She says he lived long ago away 
over in Denmark, where he wrote all 
these wonderful fairy tales for boys and 
girls. My, he must have been a splen¬ 
did man!” 

The little Cauliflower jumped nearly 
an inch when he heard this. So the 
pretty little girl had a book of the 
stories written by the great man for 
whom he was named! It made him 
quite proud. And more than this he 
resolved that he should be a story 
teller to the little vegetables—he would 
be their Hans Christian Andersen. So 
all the summer long the little Pea Ba- 




38 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


bies, and the Bean Children, and the 
Tomatoes and Potatoes and the rest 
of the children in Vegetable Land lis¬ 
tened with open eyes and ears to the 
wonderful tales which their Danish 
friend told them. 

Whenever you see Cauliflower, dear 
ones, remember that the little baby 
seeds came across the sea from Den¬ 
mark. 
















Hans Cauliflower Told Stories to the Garden Folk 


* 


39 







































“You Must Go Alone’ 


HOW GRANDMOTHER 
PUMPKIN KEPT HOUSE 

\^ - R ATHERand Mother Pump- 
TT kin wanted to go on an ex- 

A cursion with the vegetable 

-wi l folk. 

“I think you must go alone, 
Squatty,” said Mother Pumpkin. 

40 








AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


41 


(Squatty was Father Pumpkin’s first 
name, you know.) “I cannot take 
the babies so I will not go. I would 
not mind little wee Pumpkin, but the 
baby is entirely too small. We could 
not have a good time, and he would 
only lose his rest. A cool, vine house 
is the only place for a pumpkin baby. 
Pumpkin mothers had better stay at 
home when their babies are small. You 
take Middle Size and Wee-Wee and 
go-” 

But Father Pumpkin wanted to 
have Mother Pumpkin go too. He 
looked so very much disappointed that 
Grandmother Pumpkin offered to 
watch all the children. That was a 
pretty big care, for she was getting old, 




42 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


and while she loved them one and all, 
and tried to excuse them when they 
trailed off past the cornstalks and hid 
in the wheat field, they really did make 
her nervous. Why, all her hundred 
seeds quivered, like the nerves of the 
earth folk, when they all shouted at 
once! You see there were ten little 
pumpkins in the family. There were 
some families of Pumpkins around 
them whose children were larger, but 
they didn’t have so many because they 
had been pruned. But Father Pump¬ 
kin always said, “I like plenty of 
youngsters even if they are not so big!” 

After telling Grandmother just how 
to act, and what to give the babies to 
eat, and what not to give them, and a 





iifi-Sffi. 


m 

wmm 


mmmg 


Squatty Scratched Her Face Until It Had a Big White Spot 


« 


43 

































44 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


thousand other things to which she 
never listened (like many grandmoth¬ 
ers she thought she had raised babies 
herself and would do as she pleased), 
off started Father and Mother Pump¬ 
kin. 

At first things went nicely. How¬ 
ever, by the time the vine house was 
fixed up for the day, and the seed 
dishes washed, the little pumpkins be¬ 
gan to get restless. Fatty jumped from 
the vine balcony and stumped his toe. 
Of course he cried. Little Squatty tried 
to find out why his sister’s skin was 
yellow and scratched her face until it 
had a big white spot. It was only 
ten o’clock in the morning, and already 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


45 


Grandmother began to get nervous. 
Then a happy thought came to her. 

“We’ll have a picnic!” she said. 
“Over behind the cornstalk.” 

My, but there was a wild scramble. 

“I’ll tell a story until dinner. After 
we eat we’ll play games,” said Grand¬ 
mother. So over behind the corn-stalk 
with Baby Pumpkin on her lap suck¬ 
ing his milk-weed bottle, Grandmother 
Pumpkin began. 

“Once upon a time there was a real, 
live French pumpkin, who was so big 
he had to be dragged to market. He 
weighed over one hundred and twenty- 
five pounds. Many French pumpkins 
weigh that much.” 




46 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Oh, they must be giants!” said 
Longy Pumpkin. 

“I believe they are,” said Grand¬ 
mother. “I can tell you something 
funny about your great, great, great, 
great grandmothers who lived long, 
long ago. How do you think the earth 
folk used to bake them into pies?” 

“Just bake him in a pie crust” said 
little wee Pumpkin. 

“No, indeed!” laughed Grand¬ 
mother. “That’s the way they do it 
today. Long ago they took one of 
your great grandmothers, and first cut 
a hole in her side. Then they stuffed 
her with apples and spice and every¬ 
thing nice, and put her in a great old 
fashioned oven, and baked her until 





“No indeed” Laughed Grandmother 


she was a golden brown. When she 
came out of the oven she looked just as 
pretty and round as when she had been 
living on her vine house, only a bit 
tanned.” 

“That sounds nicer than being put 
on a rich pie crust!” said little Polly 
Pumpkin. 

Then came luncheon! My, but it 
was good! There was apple cider and 
leaf sandwiches made of the apple par- 











48 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


ings. The little Pumpkins were so full 
after they had finished that they just 
lay down like little pigs and slept while 
Grandmother peacefully knit under 
the corkstalk. After they awoke, came 
the games. 

Grandmother made them play they 
were gourds. First, because she said 
they really belonged to the gourd fam¬ 
ily. Wee-Wee played baby pumpkin 
was a green and yellow striped gourd 
and used him to darn some corn husk 
stockings. Biggey Pumpkin said he 
was playing “Big Injun” and used 
Polly for a Hercules Gourd. They 
played until night came, and Grand¬ 
mother bundled them all together and 
took them home. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


49 


When Father and Mother Pumpkin 
came home from their trip, all the 
little Pumpkins were fast asleep in their 
beds. 











“He’s Too Dried Up and Old ” 


REDDY PEPPER, COWARD 


I 


! N a far off country called 
the Roman Empire lived 
Reddy Pepper, vegetable. 
He was an ancestor of those 
peppers which grow in our gardens and 
are sold in our market places, to make 
chow-chow and pepper slaw; the dear 
little Sweety Peppers and hot Sharpy 


m 












AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


51 


Peppers. He was like the Sharpys, for 
he had a very hot temper, and fairly 
burned! 

All around him in little vine houses 
grew other peppers. They grew as they 
were intended to grow, hanging until 
they were dry enough to be picked. 
Then they were ground into the pepper 
dust you sometimes put in soup. They 
were happy to be packed as pepper 
dust in boxes, and sent away, for they 
knew that was what they were made 
for; but Reddy Pepper was not con¬ 
tented. 

“I wish I could grow higher than a 
house!” said Reddy. “So they could 
never find me to grind me up.” 




52 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Now the fairies were flitting around, 
and they heard Reddy’s wish, and be¬ 
fore he knew it, the house in which he 
lived began to grow. First it grew 
high as a little bush; then it grew high 
as a big bush; then as high as a little 
tree; then as high as a big tree; two 
feet—five feet—ten feet—twenty feet! 

At first Reddy stood at the bottom 
with his mouth wide open, looking up. 
Then he felt himself “going up!” Up 
and up he went until at last he reached 
a big, blue field. It must have been a 
bit of sky-land, or else it really was the 
land where Jack of the Beanstalk’s 
giant and his wife lived. At any rate, 
Reddy stepped off, and walked around 









✓ 




Wrfwtuwllrr 



Up, Up He Went 


53 































































54 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


until he came to a big tin-box castle. 
Inside he heard voices droning: 
“Stepper, wepper, hepper, depper, 

I want to catch that big red pepper; 

Be he green or be he red, 

I’ll grind him up from toe to head.” 

My, poor Reddy was frightened! 
He had wanted to grow big so he could 
get away from the earth folk who want¬ 
ed to do the same thing to him. Here 
it was even worse. He wished he were 
back in his small vine home. He tried 
to creep down the high vine, but he 
could not. He tried to hide but there 
was no hiding place large enough for 
him. He worked until he became all 
hot and red, and finally he wiggled 
himself loose, and went whizzing down 
through the warm air. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


55 


“I wonder where I’m going to?” he 
thought. ‘‘I hope I will get away from 
the giant in the tin-box castle.” 

Down, down, down, he tumbled, 
until bump! went his head on the hard 
earth. There he lay very tired and 
sore. 

Days passed. Reddy grew old and 
withered. At last as he lay there, he 
heard the tramp, tramp of men in 
shining armor. 

“We are Roman soldiers!” they 
shouted. “Attila has demanded three 
thousand pounds of pepper as a ran¬ 
som for the city of Rome. We must 
grind all the peppers we can find! We 
must have pepper!” 




56 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Reddy heard it and quaked. Was 
this Attila the giant of the tin-box 
castle? Were these his followers? He 
almost seemed to hear: 

“Stepper, wepper, hepper, depper, 

I want to catch that big red pepper; 

Be he green or be he red, 

I’ll grind him up from toe to head.” 

“Here is a big vine and a lot of little 
ones,” said one of the giant men. 
“We’ll take all these.” 

So they gathered peppers and pep¬ 
pers. Reddy, hiding under the vines, 
heard them all chattering gayly, as 
they were pulled and stuffed into bags. 
He could not see how they could be 
happy when they were going to be 
ground up. It was awful! What did 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


57 


he care for the city of Rome? What 
did he care for Attila? At last he 
heard one of the men say, as he kicked 
him with his foot, “Why, here is one 
more lying on the ground.” 

Reddy grew so weak and scared that 
he just shriveled up some more. Then 
a big, strong face peered into his with¬ 
ered, little one and said, “That one’s 
no good! He’s too dried up and old. 
March on! Our bag is full at any 
rate.” 

“Goodbye, Reddy!” shouted all the 
little peppers from the bag. “We are 
vegetable soldiers! We’re going to 
help save our country! You are a 
coward, Reddy! You’ve been trying 




58 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


all your life to get away from what 
you were made for! Goodbye, Reddy!’ ’ 

It seemed to Reddy Pepper, as he 
lay there alone, old and tired and shriv¬ 
eled, that he did not care what he was! 
All he could hear was the ringing song 
of the giant: 

“Stepper, wepper, hepper, depper.” 

As the distant cry from the Roman 
soldiers—“Three thousand pounds of 
pepper, a ransom for the city of Rome” 
was wafted to his ears, Reddy fell asleep 
—a dried up, cowardly, wrinkled sleep. 

I think the Soldier Peppers must 
have been happy, don’t you? 





The Earth Folk Had Packed Up for the Sea-shore 


THE OPENING OF GARDEN BED 
PARK 


T 


HE vegetables in Garden Bed 
Village felt very much ne¬ 
glected. When they had 
first sprung up from their 
Under-the-Ground, the earth 


4 


home, 

folk had been delighted with them! 



























60 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


They had stooped down to count 
how many of each family there were; 
they had picked them and sold them 
for large sums of money in the market 
places; they had put them on the table, 
dressed in fancy styles, and greeted 
them with smiles and pleasant faces. 
But now the summer was growing old, 
and with it the vegetables. They were 
no longer popular. So when the vege¬ 
table folk heard that the earth folk, 
who lived in the house near to the 
Garden Bed Village, had packed their 
trunks and started for the seashore, 
they held a meeting. 

“What do they expect us to do?” 
said Yellow Tomato. “I’m anxious to 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 61 

be preserved with that lemon fellow! 
But here I must hang until I grow 
old and withery!” 



There Are Hundreds of Us Waiting to Be Cooked with Bacon 


“I don’t know,” said the Beans. 
“There are hundreds of us waiting to 
be cooked with bacon or pickled in 
chow-chow.” 



















62 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“It’s a shame!” said some of the 
Pea Children. “Our green dresses are 
all fading yellow in the sunlight. We 
surely had hoped for a cream and but¬ 
ter dressing by this time.” 

“Well, well, well,” said Hans Cauli¬ 
flower, “withering looks and sour faces 
do not make things any better. If 
the earth people in that house pre¬ 
fer a stuffy hotel room to a breezy 
cottage porch, and fish to fresh vege¬ 
tables, we can’t help it. We have been 
doing our best for them and they don’t 
seem to appreciate it. Let us try liv¬ 
ing for someone else. I have a plan. 
We’ll put up a sign on the edge of the 
bed, reading: 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


63 


GARDEN BED PARK 

Picnics taken care of every 
day from five in the morn¬ 
ing until seven at night 

ALL BUGS, ANTS AND 
WORMS POLITELY IN¬ 
VITED 

So that is how it happened the next 
morning that the little ants and worms 
and bugs who went down the road 
saw the sign. They hopped and crawled 
and wiggled into GARDEN BED 
PARK. There they played all day 
and crawled home to their mothers 
and fathers when it began to grow 
dark. 




64 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Oh, mother!” said Browny Potato 
Bug. “We have just found a splendid 
place to play. We punch holes all day 
long in green curtains and eat off the 
edges.” 

“Father,” said the little worm. 
“Please come along tomorrow to Gar¬ 
den Bed Park. It’s the finest place 
in the world! There are bean vine 
swings, with dear, little narrow seats 
hanging to long ropes; there are red 
rolling tomato balls; there are funny 
little green pea incubators, full of the 
cutest babies. We never tire watching 
them. And oh, father, take us on the 
lettuce roller coaster, where we can go 
up one leaf and down the other. J ust 
think, it only costs a drop of dew to 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


65 


get on the Cauliflower merry-go-round, 
and only two drops for the squash 
theatre, where the tiny ant rolls a grain 



‘Please Come Along , Father” 


of sand backwards. Oh, there is so 
much to see and do. Please do come 
along, father.” 

















The Cauliflower’s Merry-Go-Round Played “When the Daylight 
Choo-Choo Took the Folks Awayl” 


66 







AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


67 


So during the long four weeks when 
the house was closed Garden Bed Park 
was open to all of Bugville. Every day 
the cauliflower merry-go-round played 
“When the Daylight Choo-choo Takes 
the Folks Away. ’ ’ It was great fun to 
watch the bugs and ants and worms as 
they played all over the park. 

But one day the folks came home. 

When they saw their garden bed full 
of little bugs and worms and ants, 
they hoed up the whole of Garden Bed 
Park. The earth people were sorry 
that they had forgotten to have the 
good vegetable folks cared for. 





They Were Known All Over the World 


CHINATOWN OF FRUIT CITY 
^’NCE upon a time in a beau- 
tiful part of California there 
was a wonderful Fruit City. 
In it lived such famous 


fruit folk as California Peach, Cali¬ 
fornia Pear, California Plum and Cal- 


68 












At the Very Edge of the Village 


69 




























































































































70 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


ifornia Apricot, who were known all 
over the world. Their pictures could 
be seen at any time in grocery store 
windows, on huge tin cans and glass 
jars. Of course they were proud of 
being such great folk; that is how 
they came to look down at some queer 
Fruit Folk who lived at the very edge 
of their village, in a section all by 
themselves. This section was known 
as Orange Grove, but the Fruit Folk 
had nicknamed it Chinatown. 

Now the Fruit Folk who lived in 
this Chinatown were not really natives 
of America; their ancestors had come 
from far across the sea; from China and 
Japan—those hot, tropical lands. They 
were yellow-skinned, and were full of 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


71 


yellow blood—juice (some of them even 
had red—blood juice, almost like real 
people). They were entirely different 
from the other Fruit Folk. 

So the great folk of Fruit City kept 
to themselves, and would not have a 
thing to do with their yellow-skinned 
neighbors. 

“We can’t have our children going 
with foreigners!” said Mayor Peach, as 
he lectured one day in the Peach-Tree 
Court Flouse. 

“That is right!” spoke up Preacher 
Pear. “They may teach our children 
bad habits.” 

“I don’t think they should ever have 
been allowed to land in our country,” 




72 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


said Professor Plum, who was at the 
head of the California Fruit School of 
Commerce. “Why the earth folk all 
over this country are actually paying 
as much for ONE of those Grape Fruit 
fellows, as they do for several of us. 
Besides, these foreigners are more pop¬ 
ular than we are in many places.” 

“They may own the earth, if they 
keep on growing in number,” said 
Mayor Peach. “Is there nothing 
which we can do to stop them?” 

But nothing they said did any good, 
and so, even although these fine Fruit 
Folk frowned and frowned, the queer 
yellow folk in Chinatown of Fruit City 
kept growing and growing, and gave 
much fruit to the earth folk every day. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


73 


But the Grape Fruit felt very bad 
because they were snubbed by the other 
folk of Fruit City. 

“We can’t help being yellow 
skinned,” said Celly Orange. “It’s 
no disgrace to be a Mongolian.” 

“I’m not going to be ashamed of 
my color,” said Biggey Grapefruit. “I 
was born yellow-skinned, and I’ll live 
yellow-skinned. ’ ’ 

So the little tribe of yellow people 
worked on and on, giving good, juicy 
fruit to the earth folk long after the 
Peach and Pear and Plum families had 
been put into tin cans, to stand all 
winter long on grocers’ shelves. All 
over the land they traveled in their 
thick dresses that defied all weather. 




74 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


But each and every summer the folk 
of Fruit City planned to have them 
put out of the country. One day as 
Mayor Peach motored by Fruit Chi¬ 
natown he heard some queer voices 
droning a Chinese tune to the beating 
of gongs: 

“Tum-tee-dee, tum-tee-dee, 

“We’ve never a care, as you can see, 

“Though the Fruit Folk treat us badly, 

“The Earth Folk like us, so we are happy, 
“Fiddle-dee, fiddle-dee, tum-tee-dee.” 

“These fellows are getting to im¬ 
pudent!” said Mayor Peach. “They 
must be sent out of the country!” 

“Pm afraid you’ll have a hard time 
doing it, your Honor!” said Preacher 
Pear. “They have become too well 
liked by the great earthfolk. They 
wouldn’t let us do it.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 75 

And so the yellow folk grinned Billi- 
ken grins at the big auto, as it bore 
away Mayor Peach with a frown on 
his face, and Preacher Pear nodding 
his head. 















Maybe YU Be a Refreshing Drink for Some Invalid 


HONEY PLUM’S LESSON 

NCE upon a time a beauti¬ 
ful little Honey Plum lived 
in a beautiful home. All 
the floors were hard wood, 
and the reddish veins running through 
them showed that they were genuine 
hard wood—not imitation. In fact, 
they were such fine wood that the cab¬ 
inet makers, who make all the beau- 



76 








AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


77 


tiful things for the earth folk, paid 
great sums of money to obtain them 
for their fine work. 

Just as elegant as the floors, were 
the hangings of her home. Dainty 
white flowered curtains hung at her 
windows in the springtime; green leafy 
ones at her doors and windows in the 
summertime. Honey peeped through 
them to watch the other Fruit Folk 
of the village. 

And because of all this elegance 
Honey was proud. She would not 
play with the poor children in the 
neighborhood. 

“I’ll have nothing to do with those 
who do not live in fine houses,” she 
said, as she smoothed out her purple 




78 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


satin gown. “No one but the Apple, 
Pear and Peach children are good 
enough for me. They are the only 
ones who live in big houses. Of course 
they do not have fine, hard-wood floors 
such as I have, but at least their homes 
are large and fine.” 

Now close to Honey Plum’s home 
was a farmhouse in which lived a little 
girl. This little girl often worked out 
under the plum tree. Honey loved 
to watch her as she sat there preparing 
the folk of Fruit Village for the table. 
Honey used to talk to her friends as 
they lay in the pan in the little girl’s 
lap while she pared or washed them. 

One day the little girl brought out 
some new things. Honey had never 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


79 


seen anything like them before. They 
lay in a kettle of water. The little girl 
washed each one of them and then 
threw them into another kettle of clean 
water. They were dried-up, ugly black 
things. 

“What on earth are you?” asked 
Honey Plum. “What kind of a house 
were you raised in? You must never 
have seen a home with hardwood floors 
and curtained windows like mine. I 
guess you came from the back-woods, 
and were raised in a very poor home.” 

“Indeed, we did not come from the 
back-woods,” said one of the dried-up 
creatures, very indignantly. “We had 
as fine a home as you have, when we 
were young!” 




80 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Ha, ha!” laughed Honey Plum. 
“Nobody as beautiful as I am, or who 
lives in such a fine home as I do, could 
ever become such an ugly creature as 
you are!” 

The biggest one of the dried-up crea¬ 
tures looked up at Honey with a wise 
look. 

“Listen, Honey Plum,” she said. 
“Don’t talk so fast. You may reach 
exactly where you see us before you 
die. Once I was as fair as you. Once 
I dwelt in a fine home, and knew what 
it was to walk on hard-wood floors, 
and peep through curtained windows. 
Once I wore purple gowns and laughed 
at those who were not so fine. But 
one day I was plucked. 





44 What on Earth Are You?” 


Asked Honey Plum 


(Honey Plum’s Lesson) 


31 





































































































































82 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“ ‘Now I am going to a fine glass 
house,’ said I to myself, ‘where I shall 
spend the rest of my days in sweet 
syrup. Perhaps I will grace the table 
at some feast, or be made into a re¬ 
freshing drink for some invalid, or bet¬ 
ter still, for some sick child.’ 

“But no such thing happened, 
Honey Plum. I was picked and taken 
away from my beautiful home, and 
dried—yes, actually dried, until I was 
old, and black, and shriveled, as you 
see me now. Then I was shipped away 
in an ugly, wooden box. Since then I 
have spent my days in a hot, dusty 
grocery store, with such horrid things 
as mackerel and cheese. The other 
day this sweet little girl’s mother 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


83 


bought me. At last I am being given 
a good bath, and I hope to be pre¬ 
sented to the earth folk. But I shall 
always be black; I shall always be 
dried. And I am old! My only hope 
is that they tell me I am to be stewed 
in sugar; that will make me swell some¬ 
what with pride, so that I may look 
a bit as I used to look when I hung 
as you now hang in a beautiful home. 

“What is your name?” whispered 
Honey Plum. 

“I have been known for years, my 
dear, as Shrively Prune. But when I 
was young like you my name was 
Honey Plum.” 

Long after Shrively Prune went into 
the house with the little girl, Honey 
Plum sat and thought. If a Honey 




84 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Plum could become a Shrively Prune, 
then anything might happen. She de¬ 
cided then and there that she would be 
kind to others not so fine as she was. 
There might come a day when she 
might appreciate their kindness. 





AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 85 



Throw It to the Chickens 


DISOBEDIENT GOLDIE PEACH 

NCE upon a time in Fruit 
Village Goldie Peach lived 
in her tree home. She was 
beautiful, but very, very 
disobedient. 

Even when she had been a little 
pink and white baby, looking as inno¬ 
cent as a lily, she had been disobe¬ 
dient. 













86 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Keep under your green-leaf cover, 
dear,” Mother Peach-tree had said, but 
Goldie would always kick it off. That 
is how she happened to get a frosted 
nose! 

Mother Peach-tree thought the 
frosted nose would be a lesson, and 
settle her disobedience. But it did 
not. 

Soon she was a pink and white baby 
no longer, but stood shaking her yel¬ 
low curls in the sunlight. 

“Don’t play with worms, Goldie, 
dear,” Mother Peach-tree had warned. 
“They are not good companions for 
the Fruit Folk.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


87 


But Goldie only tossed her curls the 
harder, as she let a queer fat worm sit 
right on her bosom! 

Goldie grew and grew, and except 
for her frozen nose, she became very 
beautiful. But although she never 
even told Mother Peach-tree, she had 
a strange feeling right close to her 
heart. It was a queer, creeping sensa¬ 
tion, which she could not understand. 

She often wondered how the other 
peaches could be so care - free and 
happy. 

“I look as pretty as they do,” she 
would say to herself. “But I don’t 
feel right. Something hurts in here.” 
And then she would point to her heart. 





Disobedient Goldie Peach 


88 














AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


89 


One day all the Peaches on Goldie’s 
tree home were picked and sent to mar¬ 
ket. My, but they were happy, be¬ 
cause they were going to see the earth 
folk. All of them but Goldie. She 
was so afraid someone would find out 
that there was something wrong inside 
her beautiful body. 

The day after they left their home, 
a most pleasing thing happened. They 
were all invited to a wedding, where 
they were to sit on top of ice cream 
sundae glasses on a beautiful bridal 
table! 

One by one they were made ready 
for the feast. At last Goldie’s turn 
came. My, but she trembled! The 
creeping feeling inside her became 
worse and worse. 




90 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Sure enough, when they tried to 
dress her for the feast, there sat the 
same queer, fat worm, right on her 
spoiled seed heart! 

“That Peach is not fit for the wed¬ 
ding,” said the cook. “Only the best 
are fit for the bridal table. Throw it 
to the chickens.” 

And so it happened that while all 
the other good little Peaches sat at the 
wedding dinner, Goldie was being 
picked to pieces in the chicken yard by 
a lot of greedy hens! 

“If I had only listened to Mother!” 
sobbed Goldie, as the sound of laugh¬ 
ter floated out through the open win¬ 
dow, “I would be so happy!” 




BILLY BARTLETT’S CHOICE 


O 


^NCE upon a time a timid 
little maiden by the name 
of Sickle Pear lived in Fruit 
Village. She was not nearly 
so beautiful as her girl friends, Goldie 
Peach and Honey Plum, nor one-half 
so clever. 


In the same village lived a hand¬ 
some young fellow by the name of Billy 
Bartlett. At every Fruit ball he looked 
charming with his healthy red cheeks 
and his vest of gorgeous yellow. 

All the Fruit Maidens in the village 
liked him! Each one smiled with joy 
when he asked her to dance. 


91 






92 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


But guess who it was that Billy 
Bartlett loved the best of all? Not 
Goldie Peach, although she was al¬ 
ways smiling at him; not Honey Plum, 
although she dressed most gorgeously 
in a purple satin gown. Billy loved 
none other than little Sickle Pear. 

“I don’t see how he can care for 
her!” said Goldie Peach to Honey Plum 
one day, as they talked across their 
leaf fences. “She is very homely.” 

“Yes,” answered Honey Plum, “she 
has no fancy dress, and her face is a 
mass of freckles!” 

But Billy Bartlett saw Sickle Pear’s 
heart. He knew she was sweet. That 
is why he loved her. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


93 


One day as Sickle sat on her stem 
swinging on the branch porch, she 
heard the Wind Telephone ring. 

One ring! Two rings! Three rings! 
That was the Sickle Ring. Very tim¬ 
idly she answered it. 

“Hello! Yes, this is Sickle. Who? 
Oh, Billy Bartlett?—You have some¬ 
thing to tell me?—Oh!—You—Love— 
me?—Oh, Billy!—You—want—me— 
to—marry you?—Oh, Billy! Indeed 
there is nothing that would make me 
happier. But how can we be married? 
There is only one preacher who can 
marry us, and that is Preacher Grafter, 
and he will never graft until long after 
we have taken our journey to the earth 
folk. I heard my grandmother talking 




94 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


about it the other day. In the autumn 
he sometimes grafts our branches to¬ 
gether—but then we would not be here. 
—Oh, Billy, do you think you could 
pray the fairies to have him graft now? 
—in summer? While we are still on 
the tree?—It would be lovely!—Yes, 
Billy, I will marry you, if you can get 
the preacher to bring you over to my 
house.” 

Now close by Fruit Village lived a 
young farmer. One day, as he was 
passing by Fruit Village he looked at 
lonely little Sickle Pear, freckled and 
ugly. 

‘That tree should be grafted with 
that big Bartlett tree over there. I 
think I will try it this fall.” 






All the Fruit Maidens in 


the Village Liked Him 


95 




























































96 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Now, as he said this he seemed to 
hear whispers in his ear; faint, tink¬ 
ling sounds, which sounded like merry 
bells, or gurgling, happy streamlets. 

“Lay—rules—aside, young man! 
Graft now! The fairies speak! Make 
happy two young Fruit Folk—Billy 
Bartlett and Sickle Pear.” 

Now all this sounded like nonsense 
to the young farmer, but he was a kind 
young fellow, so he listened to the 
fairies, as he sat under the branches of 
the Sickle home. It was here that 
the Fairies, who had heard Billy’s 
prayer, as Fairies do, told the farmer 
the whole story, and it pleased him to 
act as preacher. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


97 


Next morning Billy Bartlett was 
very much scared. A great knife cut 
his branch porch right from his home, 
even while he was sitting upon it, and 
Billy and his branch porch were car¬ 
ried away on the shoulder of the young 
farmer. 

Then suddenly he saw he was being 
carried right to Sickle’s front porch! 
The next thing he knew, his porch was 
waxed close beside Sickle’s porch, and 
before he knew it he was so close he 
could lean over and kiss her! 

Then Billy Bartlett was the hap¬ 
piest young man in all Fruit Village. 

It was not long before all the Fruit 
Folk knew of the wonderful marriage 
of Billy Bartlett and Sickle Pear. 




98 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


The farmer, however, thought he 
had been silly to listen to the fairies. 
It was contrary to all rules to graft 
when there was fruit on a tree. 

But no one need ever doubt the 
fairies. A few years after that, the 
farmer passed the Sickle home one fine 
day. There, swinging on all the branch 
porches were a host of beautiful, big, 
healthy pear children, with never the 
sign of a freckle! And they were sing¬ 
ing this song: 

“Our Father’s name was Bartlett, 

Our mother’s Sickle Pear; 

Folks say we look like Father, 

And are sweet as Mother Pear!” 





THE PROUD APPLE 

PNCE upon a time a big, juicy 
apple lived in Fruit Vil- 
| lage. Shewasaverybeau- 
| tiful apple. Her cheeks 
were as red as roses, her body was 
plump, while the little plat on the top 
of her head was quite attractive, espe¬ 
cially when she wore a dainty green-leaf 
hair ribbon. 



99 










100 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


There was one thing which spoiled 
her, however. She was too proud. 

“I am a most wonderful person,” 
she would say to all the apples living 
on the same tree-house with her. “I 
belong to a family which is raised in 
many, many countries of the earth. 
We are strong; so strong that the earth 
folk can keep us all winter long with¬ 
out having to cook us and seal us up 
in glass jars.” 

Yellow Peach, who was sitting on 
her front porch, heard the Proud Ap¬ 
ple. 

“Well,” she said, “we don’t have to 
be mashed and made into sauce in 
order to be good after we are cooked. 
We look pretty in our glass houses.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


101 


But the Red Cheeked Apple could 
not be convinced. 

“My dear Peach,” she said, haught¬ 
ily, “you never had a great poet write 
about you. Think of the poem of 
William Tell. Was it a Plum William 
Tell shot from his son’s head? Was 
itaPear? WasitaPeach? No, itwas 
an Apple!” 

“Oh, we don’t need to look up his¬ 
tory in order to find something to 
boast about,” said Yellow Peach. 

One day her Country Cousin came 
to Fruit Village. 

“How do you do, Red Cheek,” she 
said. “I am your cousin, Crab Apple. 

Red Cheek turned away and said 
nothing. 




102 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“How do you do,” said Crab Apple 
to the other fruit. 

“How do you do,” they answered 
politely. 

“What is the matter with Red 
Cheek?” asked Crab Apple. 

“She thinks she is too good to as¬ 
sociate with us. She is so proud of 
her ancestry. She boasts because a 
great poet once mentioned her.” 

“Oh,” said Crab Apple, with a 
laugh. “I think I had better have a 
talk with her. I know some of our 
family history myself.” 

In a few moments Crab Apple was 
talking with Red Cheek. 

“Now, Cousin,” she said, “if you’re 
telling all the folks in Fruit Village 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


103 


our family history, why don’t you tell 
them of the part we took in that dread¬ 
ful thing which happened in that beau¬ 
tiful garden long, long ago. It was 
not a Peach, a Pear, or a Plum that 
helped the serpent tempt poor Adam 
and Eve. It was an Apple. One of 
your own ancestors. I’m not proud 
of it, I can tell you, and I try never 
to mention it, but there is no sense 
in holding your head so high and 
boasting about your family history 
when you had such bad ancestors.” 

Then she left Red Cheek as sud¬ 
denly as she had come, and went back 
to the other Fruit Folk. 

“I think I have cured her of her 
boasting,’’ she said. “I told her some¬ 
thing I think she had forgotten.” 




104 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


And cured her she had. The very 
next day Red Cheek was lying on the 
ground laughing and having a good 
time with a lot of the Plum, Pear and 
Peach Family. They had all left their 
tree homes together, and were playing 
hide and seek with Uncle Wind. 








HOW THE BANANA FAMILY 
WENT ABROAD 

?NCE upon a time in the far 
away East Indies lived a 
queer Banana Family, 
j There was Father Banana, 
Mother Banana, Grandfather Bana¬ 
na, and Grandmother Banana, to say 
nothing of a whole bunch of little Ba¬ 
nanas. 

105 

















106 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


There they lived on a great high 
tree, higher than your house or mine. 
There they saw wonderful things — 
things which you and I go to the Zoo 
and the circus to see — there they 
played in the bright sun all the day, 
but they were not satisfied. 

“If only we could see the world!” 
said Grandfather Banana. “If only 
we could travel!” 

“If only we could cross the ocean, I 
wouldn’t even mind getting sea-sick!” 
said Grandmother. 

“If only we could get into one of 
those snow blizzards I have heard trav¬ 
elers talk about,” said Father. 

“I wouldn’t mind being frosted, if 
I were able to really see a real winter!” 
said Mother. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


107 


“Wouldn’t it be great to see the 
wonderful children of other lands?” 
said the children. 

The other Banana Families loved 
their queer East India country, and 
were content to stay in their high tree 
houses, huddled together in bunches 
until each one was ripe enough to fall 
to the ground, for the native children 
to eat. 

But not so this one family. 

“Cut us from our home, 

“We so much want to roam” 

was all they sang from morning until 

night. 

Now it happened that one day a 
man walked by their home and heard 
their song. So he took a big knife, and 




108 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


cut the whole bunch from their tree 
home, and sent them to a big boat ly¬ 
ing in the harbor. 

“You’re pretty green to travel, ’ ’ said 
he. “I hope you will arrive safely.” 

“Oh, we’ll stay together, and get 
through somehow,” the Banana Fam¬ 
ily answered. “Goodbye.” 

Then off they sailed across the bois¬ 
terous ocean. Not once did they com¬ 
plain about being sea-sick, although 
Grandmother and Mother Banana 
were frightfully miserable. They kept 
close together until they reached the 
other shore. 

Here were things more wonderful 
than they had ever imagined could 
be; great buildings, bright lights, tink¬ 
ling bells, and shrill whistles. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


109 


“This is America, of which we have 
heard so much,” said Grandfather Ba¬ 
nana, as they were carried from the 
boat, and put in a car behind a puf¬ 
fing engine. “If you keep awake you 
will learn many things.” 

And keep awake they did, until they 
reached the great white lights of New 
York City. 

Then the little ones began to notice 
their family was changing. 

“Why, Grandmother,” they said, 
“why are you wearing spectacles?” 

“The better to see with, my dears,” 
answered Grandmother. “Brown 
spectacles are just the things for tired 
eyes.” 




110 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Grandmother does not want to tell 
the truth,” laughed Grandfather. “It 
is because she is growing old.” 

Just then a big Italian with black 
eyes and black hair bought the whole 
bunch. “Good ripe-bananas,”said he. 
“Can sell cheap.” 

“What does he mean?” asked 
Mother. 

“Why, my dear,” said Father Ba¬ 
nana. “Our travels are about at an 
end. We did not want to be eaten by 
the natives away back home, so we 
must be eaten by the folks in New 
York. You know that is what we 
were made for. It is our lot to be 
eaten.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 111 



‘Good Ripe Bananas” Said He 


“All right,” answered Mother, ly¬ 
ing back happy but tired. “We’re 
willing. We have had such a lovely 
trip, and we’re all glad to be eaten, 
aren’t we, babies?” 

“Indeed we are,” answered the little 
ones, joyfully. 

“Goodbye! Goodbye!” they whis¬ 
pered to one another, as a little boy 
bought a dozen of them and started to 
eat Grandmother right away. 




















“ 0h > L °ok Here” Cried the Little Girls 

(The Three Obliging Little Berries) 

















I 


















































































They Heard the Tale Biggey Mulberry Told 

(The Tale of the Mulberry Tree) 


























































































































































































AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 

of the 

BERRY AND FLOWER BABIES 


Brave Violet. 

Once upon a time in Mother Na- 
ture’s winter home, Under- 
the-Ground, the flowers were getting 
very restless. You see it was nearly 
spring, and they had been sleeping all 
through the winter. It is good enough 
to have to sleep all night — but all 
winter! No wonder they were lively. 


10 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


It is true during the first month of 
winter, they had thought their warm, 
brown earth bed very comfortable; it 
is true in the first few months, the 
dark earth room, in which they slept, 
was very soothing to their tired eyes, 
which had grown weak looking into 
the face of Uncle Sun through a long 
summer; it is true their warm, white 
snow comfortable had felt very cozy 
and cuddly at first, but now they were 
beginning to feel as little girls and 
boys do when morning peeps in at the 
window, and “kick” fly the covers, 
and “patter” come little feet. My, 
but the flowers wanted to kick off that 
brown earth cover! My, but they 
wanted to crawl out over the top of 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


11 


that warm, white comfortable! My, 
but they wanted to be kissed by the 
Rain Children once again.” 



“/ Want to Hear My FriendSaid Saucy Red Clover 


“It seems an age since we have heard 
the song of Red Robin,” sighed Red 
Rose. 




12 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“I want to hear my friend the Blue 
Bird,” said Saucy Red Clover. 

“Dear me, how long is it since we 
have played hide and seek with the 
big brown cows?” asked White Daisy. 

“My!” said dainty Yellow Butter¬ 
cup, “I hope to see a pink sun-bonnet, 
and have one of those earth children 
say ‘Oh, you pretty Buttercup’. ” 

Suddenly one of the flowers said, 
“Let’s stretch our necks, and put our 
noses out in the air. Let’s see what 
is going on.” 

So one and all stretched until they 
reached the surface. But as soon as 
the cold air struck their faces they 
pulled right back into the warm earth 
room. 







Are the Little Girls Wearing Their Pink and White Sunhonnets? 


13 























































14 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Oh!” said one and all. “It is 
so cold.” 

“I am afraid I will freeze if I go out.” 
said Red Rose. “And I may get my 
beautiful, red dress all soiled in the 
early Spring slush. But I do so want 
to see Robin.” 

“I cannot go out,” said Red Ger¬ 
anium. “I might take a cold, and 
then my nose would be redder than it 
is, but I should like to know whether 
Blue Bird has come back.” 

“I cannot go out,” said Daisy. “My 
eyes would get all pasted shut with the 
cold, and I could not see. I am afraid 
I might freeze, and the cows would 
find me right away, but I should like 
to know whether they are in pasture.” 





AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


15 


“I cannot go out,” said Yellow But¬ 
tercup. “I wish I could for I should 
like to know whether the little girls 
have yet put on their pink and white 
sun-bonnets. I believe none of us are 
big enough to crawl out and fight Jack 
Frost. We had better all crawl back 
into bed.” 

“Peep, peep,” said a little voice. 
“I’ll go out. I’ll put on my purple 
cloak, and keep myself well bundled, 
until I see whether Uncle Sun will 
keep me from freezing.” 

“Why Violet!” said one of the flow¬ 
ers. “You dare not go out. You are 
too small. You will be scared by the 
wind.” 




16 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Not I!” said Violet. “I will see 
whether Robin and Blue Bird are back. 
I will see whether Bossy Cow is in 
pasture. I will see whether the earth 
children have put away their muffs 
and brought out their sun-bonnets. 
Leave it to me.” And before they 
could turn, Violet jumped out from 
under the warm earth covers, and was 
gone. 

“She surely is brave!” sighed Red 
Rose. “It must be splendid to have 
such courage! I will wait a while long¬ 
er,” and she crawled far into bed. 

“She is a wonder, but we will wait 
until she calls us,” said the rest, pull¬ 
ing up the covers, over their heads. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


17 


“Yes,” said Mother Nature, who 
had been listening to them. “Violet 
is the bravest, sweetest, kindest one of 
all the Flower Family. And I think 
the Earth Children love her best of all, 
for she brings them the first messages 
of Spring. I can assure you Uncle 
Sun and I will not allow her to freeze.” 

And now, dear little ones, be sure to 
make Violet happy when you find her. 
I think she likes best of all to be taken 
to some shut-ins so that they may 
find in her the breath of the cool green 
woods. 




The Flowers’ Scare. 


Once upon a time, in their winter 
home, Under-the-Ground, the flowers 
had all settled down for a last Spring 
nap. Just as sometimes boys and 
girls turn over for a last nap after 
the sun has peeped in at the window. 
I said ALL the flowers had settled 
down—but there was one who had not. 
It was Violet. She had gone to see 
whether the birds had come back, and 
to see whether the Sun-bonnet babies 


18 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


19 


were out. At last, one by one, the 
rest awakened. My, but they were a 
lazy, drowsy lot! 

“Dear me,” said Red Rose, as she 
stretched herself, “I wish we had all 
come up when we were awake the first 
time.” 

“So do I,” answered Tulip. “I 
never feel good when I sleep late in the 
Spring.” 

“I am afraid I will not get to church 
in time to show my Easter bonnet,” 
said Hyacinth. 

“I do not want to be late for my 
wedding,” sighed Calla Lily. “My 
white satin dress is so rich and rare.” 




20 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Suddenly Easter Lily looked about 
with a start. “Why, where is the 
baby?” she asked. 

“Our baby? Arbutus?” asked Red 
Rose. “Why, I don’t know. She 
was crawling around the room when 
Violet went out. Where can she be?” 

“Arbutus! Beauty!” called the 
flowers. “Traily, come here to your 
aunties. Don’t you hear them call¬ 
ing you?” 

“I think the little one crawled unaer 
Lily’s Bulb,” said Geranium. “She 
is always creeping around trying to 
get into mischief. There is no use in 
getting excited. You know she is 
here some place.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


21 


Nevertheless Geranium looked wor¬ 
ried. So did all the rest. Calla Lily 
forgot about her wedding; Hyacinth 
forgot about her Easter bonnet; Tulip 
forgot about her sleepiness; one and 
all hunted and hunted and hunted, 
but they could not find Arbutus. 

“Oh, where is our little baby!” the 
flowers cried. “If we only had not 
taken that nap, she never would have 
been lost!” 

“But where could she have gone?” 
questioned Daisy. “Why, the little 
midget cannot walk. She could not 
have crept far.” 

“Well,” said Buttercup. “Let us 
stop this foolish crying, and use sense. 




22 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Was the door open? Might she have 
crept out?” 

“That’s it!” said Pansy, from her 
little corner of the earth-room. “I’ll 
venture to say Violet left that door 
open when she went out, and Traily 
has crawled after her. She is always 
following Violet.” 

“Oh, my!” shivered Red Rose. “She 
never could live in that cold biting 
air! Why, she is only a baby! The 
little pink and white darling! To 
think of her crawling over that cold 
earth after Violet!” 

“Wait,” said Hyacinth, as she pick¬ 
ed up a little root telephone, “I will 
ask Mother Nature if she has seen her. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


23 


‘Hello—Hello, is this you, Mother 
Nature? This is the Flowers at Un- 
der-the-Ground. Have you seen our 



“Wait” Said Hyacinth, as She Picked Up a Little Root Telephone 


baby? Yes, I mean Arbutus. Yes, 
of course, Traily, with her pretty pink 
and white skin. We cannot find her. 
-Yes, that’s her. She cannot walk; 










24 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


j ust crawls every place. Have you seen 
her?’ ” Then for a long while the flow¬ 
ers waited eagerly. They could hear 
Hyacinth saying “Is it possible! Can 
it be?” But her face was bright, so 
they knew it must be good news she 
was hearing. 

“Well,” they asked, as she hung 
up the receiver. ‘ ‘Where is she?* ’ 

“Just as Pansy expected,” answered 
Hyacinth. “That youngster followed 
Violet. Mother Nature said she saw 
her start, but she thought a little cold 
air would do her good. She threw a 
green blanket over her, and pulled on 
her green, woolen stockings, and that 
youngster has crawled all over the 
dark, woody places of the earth after 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES_25 

Violet. Up hill and down, under tree 
and bush. The Earth Children are 
wild about her. Uncle Sun says ‘Do 



Little Arbutus Wandered Away 


you think we will let a baby freeze?’ 
Jack Frost has been eager to kiss her 
cheek, but Mother Nature would not 
let him. She says he is too rough.” 

“But how can we ever see her again?” 
sobbed Daisy. 









26 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Go after her, of course,” answered 
Hyacinth. “We have been napping 
too long already. For one, I am 
ashamed of having let that baby go 
out before us. ” So saying, she pushed 
her way through the ground as fast as 
possible, with all the flowers following. 






Bugville Turned Out and Stood Along the Walk 



The Flowers’ Baby Show. 

Once upon a time the flowers in 
Garden Bed Village were growing very 
tired. The summer had been long, 
and they had played all the games 
they knew how to play. They had 

27 









28 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


given luncheons and tea-parties. They 
had taken baths each morning in the 
dew. They had watched the beauti¬ 
ful firefly balloons each evening. Now 
they wanted something new to do. 

“It is all very well for those flower 
friends of ours who have been taken 
away,” complained Daisy. “But 
what can we do?” 

“I will tell you,” said Pansy, who 
was always original, and thinking out 
new games. “Let us have a Baby 
Show. I have heard that the earth 
folk do that sometimes.” 

“Good!” said Heliotrope. “That 
will be splendid! We will all take our 
babies. Where can we have the 
parade?” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


29 


“I have a beautiful, white walk to 
offer you, fair sister Flowers,” said 
White Elysium. “It reaches all 
around Garden-Bed Village. It is quite 
easy on the feet, and will make a splen¬ 
did parade ground.” 

“Oh, thank you!” said Pansy. 
“That will be a cool, safe place for the 
babies, as it is so near the Marigold 
fence. If one of the babies does get 
away, it cannot possibly climb over 
that. But who shall be the judges? I 
should like to trust flowers, but they 
might be partial to their own babies.” 

“I think,” said Red Rose, as she 
blushed, “I might ask my friends, the 
birds, to act as judges. The little tree 
over there at the edge of Garden-Bed 




30 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Village would make a splendid judge’s 
stand. Robin is so fine looking in 
his gorgeous red vest, and his chirps 
are so musical. I am sure he and 
Blue Bird, and that handsome Mr. 
Woodpecker would do anything I 
would ask of them.” 

It did not take long to complete 
plans. The next morning the Flow¬ 
ers had their Baby Show. And such 
a show! It surely would keep the 
earth folk busy to show off a finer lot 
of babies. 

There were no nurse maids. Each 
mother wheeled her own baby down 
that Elysium walk; for each and every 
mother was so proud to own so fine a 
baby she would allow no one else to 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


31 


wheel it. Of course, at first, Red Rose 
had thought it a bit beneath her dig¬ 
nity to push a baby carriage in a 
parade. When she saw how very 
beautiful Raby Rosebud looked, wrap¬ 
ped in her green blanket, with her lacy 
little green veil drawn over her face, so 
that the sun might not hurt her eyes, 
she, too, was glad to push her baby 
around. 

All the little worms, and bees, and 
ants—in feet, all of Rugville—turned 
out and stood along the side-walk. 
I wish you might have heard the 
“ohs!” and “ahs!” as the parade passed 
by. 

“Oh, look! there is Raby Daisy! 
Isn’t she the whitest-skinned little dar- 




32 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


ling, and isn’t her little yellow cap set 
smartly on the middle of her head!” 

“My! Look at Reddy Geranium! 
She must just have been pulled from 
her nap! She is all red from crying!” 

“And hasn’t Baby Forget-me-not 
sparkling blue eyes!” 

So the bugs chatted as each passed 
by, and a butterfly, looking down from 
the tree-gallery, as she saw Baby For¬ 
get-me-not, sang: 

“Her beautiful eyes are so very blue, 

1 believe the sky came down on the dew, 

And is living in them. For You! For You!” 

Which was very clever of Butterfly. 
The worms thought so too, and they 
were very proud of him, for hadn’t he 
once crawled about in their company? 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


33 


“Well,” called Red Rose, when the 
parade had passed the judges stand, 
“Which is the prettiest?” 

And then those birds all flew to the 
ground saying, “Chirp, chirp, chirp,” 
as fast as they could. But the flowers 
could not understand. You see they 
had never once thought of the fact that 
birds and flowers talk a different lan¬ 
guage! They could not understand 
just as you would not understand a 
little one from a foreign country, who 
speaks a different language. So to 
this day each flower thinks it must 
have been her baby who took the prize, 
which I suppose was just what the 
Bird judges wanted. It seems to me 
they might at least have made Red 




34 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Rose understand, but they talked their 
merry language because they wanted 
each mother to be happy, and they 
really had all been so pretty, it had 
been a hard matter to decide. I think 
perhaps if you and I were made judges 
at a Flower Baby Show, we might have 
the same trouble that the Bird Judges 
had deciding who won the prize. 




Easter Lily’s Sermon. 


Once upon a time in Hot-house City, 
Flowerland, little Hyacinth sat on her 
tiny green stool, talking to Tulip in a 
very earnest manner. 

“What is in the air,” said she. “1 
have never seen Mr. Gardener so care¬ 
ful of our Flower-pot Houses, nor so 
kind to us. He keeps our houses en¬ 
tirely free from weeds, and he gives 
us all the water we need. What is 
going to happen?” 

“Oh,” answered Calla Lily, “if you 
were an older resident of Hot-house 
City, you would know, my dear. Of 
course you have just come up from 

35 


36 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


your winter home, Under-the-Ground, 
so you cannot be expected to know as 
much as we do. My dear, Easter is 
coming.” 

“Easter?” asked Hyacinth. ‘What 
is Easter? A man? ’ ’ 

Calla Lily looked in wonder; Pink 
and Yellow Tulip hid their faces be¬ 
hind their green leaf fans; Red Tulip 
was surprised at such ignorance, while 
the Narcissus Children huddled close 
together and giggled and giggled. 

“Of course not!” shouted all the 
flowers. “Easter is a day!” 

“It is the day,” said Red Tulip, 
“we must look our best. I am so 





I'm.Wll 


u 


fwttlmi 

1$ j 
llUlmsiA 

A 




My Dear! Easter Is Coming 




37 














































































38 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


proud when I am taken to church and 
placed before everyone, so that I may 
spread my red dress as far out, as it 
is possible to spread it.” 

“I shall not spread mine, this year,” 
answered Pink Tulip. “I mean to 
keep mine close about my body. Hy¬ 
acinth, you will be pretty with that 
bell trimming all over your gown. I 
will be surprised if you are not the 
most beautiful. They so often sing 
about Bells in the Sunday School 
where I stand.” 

“The smaller flowers are quite rest¬ 
less!” said Calla Lily, with dignity. 
“Hyacinth, above all be dignified! If 
you would only copy after me, you 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


39 


would not fail to make an impression. 
I am so sedate in my gorgeous white 
satin gown. And this wee touch of 
yellow I wear on my breast gives my 
gown such an air of elegance.” 

“Dear me!” said Hyacinth. “Is 
that what Easter is for? To show off 
our clothes? I really thought all this 
fuss the gardener was making meant 
more than that.” 

“Oh, it is not all clothes,” said a 
tiny Paper-white Narcissus Mother. 
‘ 4 We have fun too. Why, my six little 
petal children are always seated 
around the dearest egg-cup, holding 
three tiny yellow eggs. To tell you the 
truth, Hyacinth,” she leaned over and 




40 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


whispered, “these flowers think of 
nothing but clothes. Now I am only 
too glad to be able to give pleasure to 
my babies, and forget myself. My 
babies are just like the earth children. 
Easter is a time for feasting with 
them.” 

Hyacinth wondered why so much 
should be made over Easter if it only 
meant fine clothes and lots to eat, 
when she heard a beautiful voice. 
She turned, and beheld the most gor¬ 
geous flower in all Hot-house City talk¬ 
ing to her. It was Easter Lily. 

“Dear Hyacinth,” she was saying, 
“Easter is not to show off our clothes. 
Easter is not to eat eggs. We are 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


41 


glad to have these things. I hope you 
will not get this selfish spirit from our 
dear, little friends, so soon after you 
have left Mother Nature’s simple 
home, and have come to our Hot-house 
City. There seems to be a selfish spirit 
in this close air. Hyacinth, Easter 
is the day of rejoicing. Have you 
forgotten that, Calla? Have you for¬ 
gotten that, Tulip? Have you for¬ 
gotten that, Narcissus? What we 
are to do, is not to show off our new 
clothes, is not to be greedy and eat 
all day, but to BE GLAD and RE¬ 
JOICE first of all. We are supposed 
to wear our new clothes because every¬ 
thing became new on that day; we are 
supposed to eat eggs because an egg 




42 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


best shows how life comes from dark¬ 
ness. You know how the chicken 
bursts the shell and comes from the 
egg after being in there for so long. 
We are not to be proud and think 
only of ourselves and our pleasures, 
but to REJOICE and BE GLAD.” 

When Easter came they were glad 
and rejoiced because the Lily had told 
them what the day was for. 







Easter Is Not to Show Off Our Clothes 


43 


a*** 



















Johnny Jump-up and Giant 
Sun-Flower. 


Once upon a time Johnny Jump- 
up’s mother was telling him a story 
about the Giant Flower. “Why, 
Johnny,” she said, “He is so big, you 
could not touch his ankles, for you 
measure but several inches, while he 
measures many feet.” 

“Oh, mother,” said Johnny. “Tell 
me some more. Is he fierce? Would 
he harm a little flower like me?” 

“I do not think he would hurt you, 
Johnny; neither do I think he would 
notice so small a creature. He is very 

44 



He Will Not Look North 


humble, however. He sometimes lives 
in the tiniest kind of a back yard He 
has a big yellow face, and wears a 
little brown cap on the middle of his 
head. He never looks in but one direc¬ 
tion, and that is south. Some flow¬ 
ers say he will not look north, because 
he does not like the mid-night sun; 
nor east nor west, because he is jealous 















46 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


of the day sun; so he looks south where 
he must look no sun in the face. You 
see he is a Sun-flower.” 

“Dear me!” sighed Johnny. “I 
wish I might see him before I die.” 

“That is impossible,” replied his 
mother. “Because he never can be 
seen until late in the year, when you 
are in your long sleep.” 

But Johnny was a boy. Moreover 
he was determined. He made up his 
mind that he would see that giant. 

So he hid away in the tall grass, and 
never made a sound. By and by all 
the family went off to sleep and forgot 
about him. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


47 


It was hard for Johnny to live, but 
he drank sunshine and dew, and nap¬ 
ped on Aunty Dark’s breast each night 
so he managed to keep alive. 

My! but he saw sights! The most 
wonderful birds, and bees and butter¬ 
flies. And of all the crawling, buzzing 
busy creatures he asked but one ques¬ 
tion, “Where can I find Giant 
Sun-flower?” But each went on his way 
without a reply. 

One day a tiny winged creature 
stopped in front of the place where 
Johnny lived, and dug into the earth 
with its beak. It was tiny Mr. Wren, 
hunting worms for his little family, in 
the nest home, but Johnny thought it 
was a fairy. 




48 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Kind fairy,” said Johnny, with a 
bow. ‘ ‘ Gan you tell me where I might 
find Giant Sun-flower? I have been 
hunting for him all of my life, and now 
I am growing old.” 

“I think I can,” answered Mr. 
Wren, who was much flattered at being 
taken for a fairy. “There is a chap by 
that name living in the little back yard 
beside my home. We all love him. 
The little chickens in the pen sing for 
him all the day long, for you know, 
when he dies, he leaves his wealth of 
sun-flower seeds for the chickens and 
the birds. Even the poll-parrot in 
the window, in the house, near by, 
sings all day “Polly wants a sun-flower 
seed.” The giant only smiles at all 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


49 


of us, for he will not leave his wealth 
until he dies. If you really wish to 
see him, I will carry you in my beak 
to my little nest home. You can sit 
on my front porch, and look straight 
into his face. That is really the only 
place you could possibly see his face, 
for he is so great and tall.” 

Poor Johnny Jump-up! He was so 
old and weak by this time that he 
nearly cried from joy. But his wish 
had come true! So he drank in a 
long breath of sunshine, and swallowed 
the drop of dew which was left in his 
cup from breakfast, as away he was 
carried in Mr. Wren’s beak. 

When he opened his eyes, he was 
seated on the lovely, branch piazza of 




50 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


the Wren home, and across the way, 
the most wonderful flower, all yellow 
like the sun, with a little brown cap set 
jauntily on the middle of his head, 
smiled at him, and in a deep voice said: 

“Johnny Jump-up, you are a brave 
little fellow, and I admire you very 
much. I am going to put you to sleep 
in my own arms. Mr. Wren, will you 
kindly toss the little fellow over to 
me? ’ ’ Then before Johnny knew what 
was happening, he was being rocked 
to and fro, seated on the cap of Giant 
Sun-flower. 

And there, a happy little fellow, he 
closed his eyes for his last, long sleep. 




The Pink Roses of Bush 
House. 


Once upon a time, next door to a 
beautiful, white mansion, in which the 
Earth Folk dwelt, the Family Pink 
Rose, lived in their dear, little cottage, 
Bush House. 

It was a most complete Flower Cot¬ 
tage. It had beautiful green shutters, 
and quaint, thorn fire-escapes. In it 
lived Father Rose, a big, fat fellow, 
who always had his pink vest showing, 
so that every one might see his gold- 
watch seed-pocket. With him lived 


51 


52 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Mother Rose, who wore her fluffy pink 
skirts fastened around her narrow 
waist with a green belt. Also, there 
was the eldest daughter, Pink Rose¬ 
bud, in her narrow Princess gown; the 
oldest son, little Bud Rosebud, a fun¬ 
ny, stubby fellow wearing a green cap; 
and last, but not least, a whole stem 
bed-room full of Baby Rosebuds, lying 
in little green cradles, with a lacy cur¬ 
tain drawn over each face. Oh, what 
a happy family they were in their dear 
little home. 

“I hope we may never have to leave 
our home or each other!” said Mother 
Rose one day. 

“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Father Rose 
“If we always stayed at one spot we 





It Had Beautiful Green Shutters and a Quaint Thorn Fire Escape 


53 














54 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


could never make anyone happy but 
ourselves. Besides you would not see 
the world. I should like you and the 
children to travel a bit. As for me, my 
time is about at an end. I must soon 
be folding up my seed-pocket, and 
blowing over the earth to make new 
Roses for next year. There is no joy 
in living but for a day.” 

No sooner had he said this, than off 
his pink vest flew, and he was gone. 
The family missed him of course, but 
they knew that he was happy, making 
Roses for next year, so they made up 
their minds to be glad. Mother Rose 
was left them, at least. 

But one day a beautiful lady passed 
the Bush House. “My!” said she, as 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


55 


she leaned over and smelled the per¬ 
fume Mother Rose always used. 
“What a fragrant Rose! It will look 
beautiful on my library table.” 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mother Rose, as 
the Lady picked her, “I should love 
to see the World! But who will take 
care of the babies?” 

“Why, Mother!” exclaimed Miss 
Rosebud. “Don’t you think I can 
watch over them?” 

So all through the long day Rosebud 
kept house. That night a young man, 
passing Bush house, saw her. He ex¬ 
claimed, “What a wonderful Rosebud! 
I shall take it in to Mother.” 




56 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“I shall like to go!” said Rosebud, 
as the young man clipped her. “But I 
promised mother to watch the babies.” 

“Go along,” said Bud Rose, in a 
queer, thick voice, which sounded sort 
of tearful. “I am short and stubby 
and not of much account, but I sup¬ 
pose I can tell the children a few stories 
about Fairy Bees and Giant Wasps. 
You will have a good time in that 
white house. They were dancing in 
there last night.” 

So all through the long night he 
watched those dear, little babies in 
their green cradles. He was very gen¬ 
tle with them. But although he told 
stories and laughed, his heart was with 
his mother and sister in the white 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


57 


house. He was lonely but he kept 
saying over and over, “I will be cheer¬ 
ful and happy. I will never move from 
this spot until I grow to be a man like 
Father with a watch Seed Pocket.” 

The next morning a dear little girl 
came running up to the Bush House. 

“Oh, you dear, little Stubby Bud!” 
she said. “I am going to take you 
and all these darling baby Rosebuds 
in to Grandmother!” 

Before Bud could get his breath he 
and the babies were being clipped from 
their home, and being carried into a 
cool, and pleasant room, where they 
were put into a beautiful vase, filled 
with fresh water. 




58 AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 



/ Am Going to Take You to My Grandmother 


Bud looked around to count the 
babies to be sure they were all there, 
when—guess what? In the very same 
vase, right beside him, were Mother 
Rose and Sister Rose-bud! 

Well, such a hugging time, you never 
saw! They could not get close enough 
together in that vase. They were so 











AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


59 


happy to think that they were all to¬ 
gether in such a beautiful place. It 
really seemed too good to be true. 

There they smiled so sweetly and 
cast their perfume so widely, that 
everyone in the big white house was 
happy. 







Pretty Red Flowers 


60 

























































The Berries’ Race. 


Once upon a time eight little seed 
friends lived in Seed-store City. They 
were Strawberry Seed, Blackberry 
Seed, Raspberry Seed, Huckleberry 
Seed, Elderberry Seed, Currant Seed, 
Mulberry Seed and Gooseberry Seed. 

They looked so much alike that the 
Mayor of Seed-store City (some folks 
called him the store-keeper) had to 
mark each envelope house in which 
the different seeds lived, in order to 
tell them apart. 


61 


62 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


One day these little friends had a 
plan. They planned over who could 
win the race in giving berries to the 
earth folk. 

“I can win the race,” said Mulberry 
Seed. “I will be noticed first, because 
I make such a big tree, and grow such 
sweet berries.” 

“I don’t know,” said Gooseberry 
Seed. “Everyone will like my coat of 
many colors best.” 

“My shiny red one is prettier,” said 
Red-Currant. “Red is so bright it 
can be seen at a great distance.” 

“I am quite sure we will be noticed 
first,” said one of the Raspberry twins. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


63 


“Everyone looks at us first because 
one has such black hair, and the other 
such red hair.” 

“Well,” said Strawberry Seed, “You 
all agree, don’t you, that the Seed who 
grows the first berry wins the race?” 

“We do.” One and all answered. 
“Now let us ask the Mayor of Seed- 
store City to give us a green field so we 
may begin to grow.” 

Some kind fairy must have whisper¬ 
ed this conversation to the store keeper, 
for the very next day, he gave the 
whole lot of little seed friends to a 
man, who took them away, and plant¬ 
ed them, one and all, in a beautiful 
green place, where they grew and grew 




64 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


and grew, each trying to have the first 
berry so that he might be the winner. 

“Dear me!” said Mulberry. “It 
takes long to grow a tree!” 

“Oh, dear!” said Currant and Rasp¬ 
berry and Blackberry and Huckle¬ 
berry seeds. “It takes so long to grow 
a bush. When can we ever be able 
to grow berries?” 

“Well, well,” laughed Mother Na¬ 
ture. “You little fellows forgot when 
you were talking about your fine 
houses, that a fine house cannot be 
built in a day.” 

There was one little seed, however, 
who said nothing. It was Strawberry 
Seed. He just pushed and pushed 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


65 


and grew a few leaves; then pushed 
some more and grew green berries; 
then pushed some more, and the green 
berries turned to pink and white, all 
covered with yellow polka dots. 

“Look at Strawberry Seed!” said 
the tiny bushes, and the little sprig of 
a Mulberry Tree, who although they 
had worked with all their might, had 
only a few leaves to show. ‘ ‘ You don’t 
suppose that Strawberry Seed is grow¬ 
ing to be a real berry, do you?” 

Strawberry Seed only smiled, while 
she kept on pushing. One morning the 
bushes and the little Mulberry Sprig 
were awakened by a loud shout. 




66 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“I win! I grew the first berry!” 

It was the voice of Strawberry Seed; 
and, sure enough, when the bushes 
and the sprig looked around, there, 
before their eyes was the biggest, red¬ 
dest, juiciest strawberry, hanging to 
the little plant. 

“That is not a fine house, to be 
sure only a low rambling cottage,” 
they said, as they talked over Straw¬ 
berry’s victory. “Ours will be much 
finer when we get them finished. But 
Strawberry surely can grow berries 
quicker than we can. Let’s be good 
friends, and give three cheers for Straw¬ 
berry Seed.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


67 



The Red Juicy Strawberry 


So the Berry Bushes and the Mul¬ 
berry Twig leaned over and shook 
hands with the little strawberry plant, 
who had once been a seed, such as they 
had been, and gave this cheer: 





68 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“One, two, three, 

Hurrah, say we! 

For the tiny—little Straw-ber-ry! 

Though his house is small 

He can win from all, 

At growing a berry! 

Is he quite clever? 

Yes, very, very! 

So one, two, three, 

Hurrah! say we, 

For dear little queer little Straw-ber-ry!” 

I hope dear little ones, whenever you 
play a game to win, you are willing to 
shake hands with the fellow who wins 
and give a cheer for him. 





This Is My Dear Cousin Gooseberry 


Reddy Currant and Her 
Country Cousin, 
Gooseberry. 

Once upon a time Reddy Currant 
was invited to a Berry Party. My, 
but she was glad! She sat in her 
shrub house in the beautiful city yard 
where she lived, eagerly waiting for her 
little friends, the Raspberry Twins, to 
come for her. 


69 





70 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


She was dressed from head to foot 
in red, except for a little yellow hair- 
ribbon which was tied in a tight knot, 
right in the middle of her head. She 
was so little, and fat, and roly-poly, 
she almost looked like an apple dump¬ 
ling, painted red. 

“Dear me!” she sighed, “I am so 
anxious to go, I can scarcely wait. 
Rowdy Huckleberry will be there, and 
Juicy Blackberry and dear little Straw¬ 
berry. Won’t we have a great time. 
I wonder whether Mother Nature will 
have the same things to eat which 
she had last year—fresh air salad, cool 
breeze sandwiches and iced dew in leaf 
cups? — Why don’t those children 
come?” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


71 


“There is a rap at the door now,” 
said Mother Currant. “I suppose it 
is your friends.” 

Reddy quickly ran to the door. But 
when she opened it, instead of the 
Raspberry Twins, there stood—Guess 
who? Her poor little country Cousin, 
Gooseberry, dressed in an old dress. 
It looked exactly like a grandmother 
quilt, for it was striped yellow and 
green and red. To make matters 
worse her stem arms were all covered 
with prickles. If she had not been 
so countrified, she would have looked 
a bit like Reddy. One could at least 
tell they were cousins. 




72 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“How do?” said Gooseberry. “I 
came over to visit with you a little 
while yet! Are you glad to see me?” 

Now Reddy was very kind. She 
did not want to hurt Goosey’s feelings, 
so, although she was thinking “Dear 
me, how can I ever take her to that 
party? The children will laugh at 
her,” she said with a smile “Surely I 
am glad to see you. You are just in 
time to go to a Berry party with me. 
It will be wonderful, Goosey! Danc¬ 
ing and eating and games! I am so 
glad you can go.” Then she thought 
to herself again, “That is not false. 
I mean it. I am glad Gooseberry can 
see something of city life.” 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


73 


“I am not going to be ashamed of 
her,” she continued to say to herself. 
“If those Berry Children make fun of 
her, I shall not dance with them, for 
she is my cousin.” 

“Dear me!” said Goosey, when she 
heard how fine the party was going 
to be. “I guess I will not go. I am 
so quiet and country like, I won’t 
know how to act.” 

“Oh, you will get along.”answered 
Reddy. “Just do as I do.” 

When the Raspberry Twins came 
for her, Reddy Currant, bowing very 
low, said, “This is my dear cousin, 
Gooseberry. Don’t mind the thorns 
on her arms. She is really quite sweet, 
and her dress is just the style where she 
came from.” 




74 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


The Raspberry Twins bowed low 
and said “Glad to meet you,” and off 
they started for the party. 

Such a party and such a good time! 
Of course at first little Rowdy Huckle¬ 
berry and some of the other boys, 
who always try to be a little smart, 
laughed at Goosey’s dress, and made 
fun of her— 

“Goosey, Goosey, big and juicy, 

Just came from the farm.” 

But the rest treated her lovely! 

She knew lots of good games to play 
such as 4 ‘Berry Bush is breaking down, ’ ’ 
“Ring around a Berry,” and “Going 
to Juicy-town.” Reddy Currant was 
quite proud of her by the time the 
party was over. 





She Knew Lots of Good Games to Play 












75 




/ 






















76 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Mother,” she said, that night, as 
she was being tucked into bed. “I 
am glad I made up my mind not to be 
ashamed of Goosey, and to take her 
with me. When the children thought 
I liked her, and was not ashamed of 
her, they all liked her too, and never 
thought of her country ways.” 

“I am glad you have learned that 
lesson, daughter dear. Never be 
ashamed of anyone. Sometimes the 
sweetest things are hidden behind the 
sharpest thorns and the queerest 
clothes.” 





Good Afternoon, Mrs. Raspberry 


The Raspberries’ Doctor. 


Once upon a time all Raspberry 
Village was very sad. There were no 
little Raspberry children out playing 
in the bush yards. Most of the green 
leaf curtains were drawn tight, for the 
Rerry Children were quite sick, and 
the Berry Mothers were much worried. 
On many of the Bush Houses, hung 

77 









78 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


signs like this: PLANT LICE — A 
CONTAGIOUS AND INFECTIOUS 
DISEASE. 

The Berry Mothers had done all 
they could do. They had sent out 
messages to Mother Earth for more 
nourishment, through their little root 
telephones, but none had come. They 
had prayed Uncle Sun to shine away 
the pest, but that did no good. They 
had prayed to Uncle Wind to blow 
the lice from their Bush Houses, but 
that did no good. The disease stayed, 
and the Berry Children grew worse 
each day, until their little seed bones 
showed like those of famine children. 

The disease was spreading. At first 
it had only been in one Bush House, 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


79 


now it was in almost every house in 
the village. The little Raspberries 
were afraid to peep from behind the 
leaf shutters, and they were very un¬ 
happy. 

“Dear me!” said Blacky Raspberry, 
“I am afraid we will not get to the 
candy shop to sit on top of Sundae 
glasses! I love to look around at the 
styles and hear the piano. If we stay 
so sick and seedy the farmer will not 
take us.” 

“I wanted to be put into a freezer 
and be churned into a sherbet!” said 
Reddy Raspberry. “I love to see 
every one smile when I come to a party 
in that style.” 




80 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“If I only could be baked into a large 
pie like my aunts and uncles were last 
year, I would be perfectly happy.” 
said another little thin faced black 
one. “They were buried beneath 
sugar when they were baked, swim¬ 
ming in a pool of juice. That would 
be great!” 

“Well, you can just make up your 
mind, if this disease keeps spreading,” 
said their mothers, “there will be no 
city for you this summer. These 
plant lice are dreadful. Just listen to 
the poor babies crying. It is a shame 
the way they itch.” 

Now one day a queer looking 
stranger came into the village. She 
hopped up to each house, and read the 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


81 


sign on the door. Then she shook 
her head until it nearly dropped off. 
“About time I am getting to work 
here,” she said, as she walked into one 
of the Bush Houses. 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Raspberry,” 
she said. “May I have a place to lay 
eggs in one of your stem-bedrooms? 
My name is Snowy Tree Cricket.” 

“I do not think we have any room 
for eggs around here,” said Mother 
Raspberry. “We have a disease called 
Plant Lice. Your eggs might become 
infected. You had better go away.” 

But Snowy Tree Cricket only smiled. 
She laid her eggs in the house just the 
same, but that was not all. She got 
to work in her spare moments, and 




82 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


before they could say Jack Robinson, 
she had cleared that house of all those 
Plant Lice. She j ust ate them up! 

All the babies began to be happy and 
black and j uicy again. Mother Rasp¬ 
berry did not like to have eggs lying 
all over her house, but she was so 
glad to have her babies well again, she 
gave her the freedom of the house. 

And when that house was clear of 
Plant Lice she went to the next door 
neighbor and did the same thing. And 
from that house to the next, and all 
over the village, laid eggs in each house 
and ate up the Lice. The Village 
Raspberry folk called her Dr. Snowy 
Tree Cricket, and the children called 
her Dr. Cricket for short. 





They Found This Sign 


83 



















84 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


After a while all the signs disappear¬ 
ed from the doors. The children were 
all so fat and black and juicy and it 
was time for the farmer to pick them 
and take them to town. Then they 
decided to give Dr. Snowy Tree Cricket 
a party. But when they came to look 
for her she was gone, and on the last 
Bush House in the village they found 
this sign: 

“When the Plant Lice go, why so do I, 

I live on that which makes you die; 

I ate those Lice, both great and small, 

So I’m leaving now, goodbye to all.” 

“To think of anyone eating Plant 
Lice! My, that makes me shiver!” 
said Black Raspberry. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


85 


“It doesn’t matter to me what she 
did with them, so long as I do not 
have any around.” said Reddy. “All 
I want is that ice-cream freezer.” 

“All I want is the Soda glass!” said 
Blacky. “You may have your ice¬ 
cream freezer and pies with pools of 
juice! I like to hear that piano.” 

So thanks to Dr. Snowy Tree Cricket 
they all got well. Wouldn’t it be fun¬ 
ny if our doctors cured us like this? 




The Three Obliging Little 
Berries. 

Once upon a time some little Black¬ 
berries were growing up in the country. 
Each family lived in its separate Bush 
House, where the children played on 
the porches. My! but they did have 
good times! 

But before the summer had ended 
nearly all the little Blackberry boys 
and girls had been picked and thrown 
into big buckets, after which they had 
been packed into pretty little boxes, 
and sent away in autos. 

The little ones that were left had no 
idea where they had gone. They had 







. 




Here Come Three Little Girls. 


They Will Eat Us. 


87 

















































88 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


waved their black hands goodbye, as 
the farmer had started off, to the few 
blackberries they could see sitting on 
the top of the boxes, but that was all 
they knew. 

“Dear me!” one sighed. “It must 
be nice to go out into the world.” 

Now there were only six little black¬ 
berries left; three living in one little 
Bush House, and three in another. But 
they were very different. The three in 
the first little Bush House were dis¬ 
agreeable because they thought only 
of themselves. Their names were 
Dried-Up, Shrively and Seedy Black¬ 
berry. One day as they sat on their 
porch Shrively suddenly remarked: 





AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


89 


“Dear me, here come three little 
girls. They will eat us. I do not 
want to be eaten, do you?” 

“No!” said Seedy. “I do not.” 

“Let us hide!” suggested Dried-up. 

“They cannot find us then.” 

So all three of the disobliging, little 
Berries hid behind a green leaf shutter, 
just as three beautiful little girls walked 
up to the Bush House. 

“This is a blackberry bush,” said 
one. “There must be some berries 
here.” 

They looked and looked and could 
not find one berry. They never 
thought of looking behind the leaf 
shutter, of course. They were quite 
disappointed as they walked on. 




90 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


Now on the next bush lived the three 
obliging berries, Puffy, Blacky and 
Juicy. They saw the little girls com¬ 
ing, too, but they did not hide! Oh, 
no, they did not! 

“I think,” said Puffy. “Blackberries 
were made to be eaten, were they not? 
Now if we must be eaten, by whom 
would you rather be eaten? By a 
great big man?” 

“Oh, no!” cried Juicy and Blacky. 

“By a beautiful lady?” again ques¬ 
tioned Puffy. 

“Oh, no, no, no!” again shouted the 
other two. 

“By a cute, fat, little boy?” laughed 
Puffy. 

“NO! NO! NO! NO!” they said. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


91 


“Well, then, by a pretty little girl?” 
laughed Puffy. 

“Yes, indeed, oh, yes, indeed!” 
cried the other two. 

“Well, here come three,” said Puffy. 
“Let us look our prettiest.” So they 
sat down upon their leaf porches smil¬ 
ing as broad a smile as it is possible 
for a blackberry to smile. 

“Oh, look here!” cried the little 
girls when they spied them. “Here 
are three beautiful blackberries, just 
like Father said we would find! Oh! 
I never saw such beauties! Let us 
take them home, and show Father 
how pretty and fat and black they 
are. Then we will dip them in pow¬ 
dered sugar and eat them for supper.” 




92 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


So off the bush they picked the little 
Blackberries. My! Those berries 
were happy! They puffed up with 
pride when the little girls stepped into 
a big auto and were driven away by a 
chauffeur in livery. Just think of be¬ 
ing driven to a city in an auto, each 
held by one of the prettiest little girls 
ever seen! Just think of being dipped 
in powdered sugar, and then placed in 
a rose-bud mouth! 

“What a glorious end!” whispered 
Puffy. 

Poor Seedy and Shrively and Dried- 
up watched the auto drive away, and 
then, from being selfish fell from their 
bush home, laid on the ground, dried 
up and blew away! 





















The Tale of the Mulberry 
Tree. 


The summer was nearly over. Good 
old Mother Nature was tired growing 
flowers and vegetables and berries for 
the earth folk; she was tired growing 
grass and fodder for the animals; she 
was tired growing wheat for the baker 
to use in making bread for the chil¬ 
dren; she was tired asking Uncle Sun 
to send his little son, Summer Breeze, 
to cool the aching heads of people and 
animals and vegetables and flowers; 
she was tired coaxing Mother Cloud 
to send down her rain children so that 


94 



Then the Little Elderberry 
Children Coaxed for a Story 


95 













96 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


all her earth children might live, so, 
one night, when the little Elderberry 
Children coaxed for a story, she just 
refused to tell them one. 

“If you children knew how tired I 
am,” she said, “you would not ask 
for a story. I simply cannot think! 
Please let me rest.” 

But the little Elderberry Children 
were very much disappointed. Biggey 
Mulberry tree was sorry for them, and 
leaned over and offered to tell them 
a story. 

Now the little Elderberry Children 
knew no one could tell a story like 
Mother Nature, but a story was a 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


97 


story, and so they huddled together 
to hear the tale Biggey Mulberry would 
tell. 

And that is how, one evening, little 
Summer Breeze, working for Uncle 
Wind, carried this tale from the big 
mouth of the Mulberry Tree to the 
little ears of the Elderberry Children. 

“Listen,” said the voice, “Listen, 
my children and you shall hear, of all 
of my family, far and near. Although 
you have known me for years, dear 
children, you have never known from 
what a wonderful family I come. 

“I will first tell you of relatives in 
far away lands. Have you ever seen 
beautifully dressed ladies who rustle 
more in their silk dresses than I can 




98 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


rustle in my leaves? Have you ever 
thought how it is that they can have 
all these silk dresses? Do you know 
that they get them from worms?— 
silk worms? Do you know what helps 
keep these silk worms alive? I sup¬ 
pose you have never thought of that, 
being so small. It is the leaves from 
my sister White Mulberry Tree, who 
lives in that great country China. 

“Do you know that my brother, 
Paper Mulberry Tree is greatly loved 
in that other queer, wonderful country 
near China—Japan? Do you know 
that they use his bark trousers to 
make paper, and his wood body to 
make ornamental boxes? Do you 
know that my cousins are known by 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


99 


all the rulers of Europe? Of course 
you have lived beside me long enough 
to know that I live to be very, very 
old—you have heard your great grand¬ 
mothers telling that their great grand¬ 
mothers knew me when they were little 
girls. 

“You know how sweet my Berry 
children are, and how they are sought 
by many boys who knock them down 
with sticks. Dear Elderberry Chil¬ 
dren, I have held my beautiful leaf 
sun-umbrella over dozens of children 
at one time as they played tea-party; 
I have sheltered as many boys and 
girls when it rained as you have Berry 
Children in your whole house, just by 
holding out my arms above them. 




100 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Above all, dear little ones, I can 
trace my family back to the time when 
the world was new, for my ancestors 
are mentioned in the Great Book. Yes, 
my Berry children are the only Berry 
children mentioned in the Bible—the 
B-I-B-L-E.” 

The last words trailed off into a low 
whisper. The Great Mulberry Tree 
was fast asleep. Mother Nature took 
time to whisper to the Elderberry Chil¬ 
dren: “Told you something to think 
about, didn’t she?” 

“Oh, I suppose she did!” said little 
Rowdy Elderberry, who was always 
hanging on the thinnest stem he could 
find, and doing stunts of all kinds. 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


101 


“But we wanted a story. We did not 
want a history lesson, and a sermon 
all in one.” 

“You must learn to like those kind 
of stories as well as funny ones, and 
ones of adventure.” said Mother Na¬ 
ture. 

“Oh, yes, we want to learn things 
about the world!” the other Berries 
whispered. “Biggey Mulberry surely 
must have a wonderful family. So 
many relations in other countries. We 
will try to remember all she told us.” 

“We will try, w-e w-i-1-1 t-r-y!” and 
the little Elderberry Children had join¬ 
ed the Big Mulberry Tree in the land 
of Nod. 




102 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


“Dear Children!” said Mother Na¬ 
ture when they were all fast asleep, and 
she went around to see them in bed. 
“I shall have to tell them something 
real jolly to-morrow night. But it 
will do them good to hear stories like 
that quite often.” 







4 


103 









She Sat Darning Her Thousand Pairs of Stockings 


The Old Woman Who 
Lived On a Stem. 

Once upon a time in Berrytown, 
Mountain Land, lived old Mother 
Elderberry. She was a very busy old 
woman. 

Of course you have all heard the 
little rhyme: 

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, 
She had so many children she did not know what 
to do.” 


104 










AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


105 


It was the same with old Mother 
Elderberry. She had more children 
than any woman in Berrytown, and it 
was impossible to keep them neat and 
clean like the other children. 

The little Raspberry children always 
looked so neat in their red and black 
rompers. They sat prim and proper 
on their leaf porches, while Mrs. Rasp¬ 
berry sewed with her thorn needle. 
Mrs. Blackberry’s children were so tan¬ 
ned, and clean looking, while Mrs. 
Blackberry herself was such a good 
housekeeper; and the Strawberry chil¬ 
dren wore such neat little red, calico 
aprons, and were spotless. 

Mrs. Currant and Mrs. Huckle¬ 
berry had quite a number of children 




106 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


too, but they did not crowd their 
homes as the Elderberry Children did, 
and they were not so little and bitter. 
Why, each of Mrs. Elderberry’s bed¬ 
rooms were so crowded with children 
there was no room to turn. Even the 
tiny alcoves were full! Poor Mrs. El¬ 
derberry did not know what to do. 

No one seemed to want her children. 
The other berries were quite popular. 
The little children, and grown-ups as 
well, wanted them at their parties for 
sundaes and sherbets and short-cakes, 
and, just as they were, with powdered 
sugar; but no one ever wanted one of 
the Elderberry Children. 

“No one wants my children!” sighed 
Mrs. Elderberry, as she sat darning 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


107 


her one thousand pairs of black stock¬ 
ings. “They are too tiny and bitter. 

I guess they will never be of any use in 
this world.” 

But as she was darning, her head 
nodded. Soon she was asleep, and 
while she slept, she dreamed a dream. 

On a big shelf, in a dark cellar, she 
saw hundreds of white glass houses, 
and in each of these glass-jar homes 
lived tiny people. 

First she saw a jar of soft mashed up 
looking creatures. 

“Hello, Mother Elderberry,” they 
said. “Don’t you know us?” 

“Why what a surprise!” she said, 
“If there are not some of the Straw- 




108 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


berry Children! You look so pale I 
did not know you.” 

“Yes,” they replied. “We don’t 
like it at all down here. We feel so 
funny. No one likes us put up like 
this. Over there are some more chil¬ 
dren you know. There are some of the 
Raspberry Children. They do not 
look as bad as we do, but they are 
kind of sick looking too. Then there 
are some Blackberry Children. They 
look very good down here, don’t they? 
But look over in that corner. Do you 
know any of those?” 

Mother Elderberry looked, and — 
guess what? She saw a whole thou¬ 
sand of her own little children, with no 




AUNT ESTE’S stories 


109 


stems, floating around in a shiny glass 
house; their eyes were sparkling, and 
their skins shone. 

“This is great!” they cried, when 
they saw their mother. “This is bet¬ 
ter than living on such crowded stems. 
You should see how the little boys 
and girls laugh when the cook bakes 
us into pies. Up there are a lot more 
of our brothers in little glasses covered 
with paraffin. You will not know 
them for they are all mashed into a 
jelly, but if you had heard them shout 
for joy when they were cooked in 
sugar, you would be quite happy. No¬ 
body turns away from us any more. 
I heard somebody say the other day, 




110 


AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


‘Elderberries are no good when they 
are on the bush, but are very fine when 
they are cooked’!” 

I wish you had seen Mother Elder¬ 
berry smile in her sleep. Her head 
just nodded, and nodded, and 
n-o-d-d-e-d until with a start, she 
awoke. There in her lap were the 
stockings undarned; there on the bush 
hung the thousands of little babies, 
all crying for something to eat; there 
were her stem rooms, full, full, full— 
there was nothing anywhere but chil¬ 
dren and leaf toys! 

“Dear! Dear!” she said. “I must 
get to work! But since I know my 
children are really of some good in the 




AUNT ESTE’S STORIES 


111 


world, and make people happy, I don’t 
care how hard I must work. I really 
am glad— 

“I am an old woman who lives on a stem, 

With children and children, just thousands of 
them! 

I will work until the market man takes them to 
seU, 

Where in winter the earth folk will enjoy them 
well.” 


FINIS 




































































































































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